Redemption of the Lost
by freedomatthesea
Summary: She was a thief ten years ago, partnered up with the man she expected to be the love of her life, but the whole thing blew up in her face and after a stint in prison she made it her goal in life to lock up the lying son's of bastards in the world. But she never expected that taking a case about Father Lorcan Morrissey would lead to her discovering the answers she always sought out.
1. Chapter 1

"So who's my target this week?" Emma questioned as she strolled into the small office space, tugging her leather jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack. "Deadbeat? Some adultery scandal? Come on make it good. That last case was a bust."

Benny laughed at her enthusiasm, "It's going to be a golden case for you. You might get to use some of your old skill set too." He passed the file to her, "Lorcan Morrissey, priest. A few agencies have him out for probable grand theft and identity theft."

"It's always the fucking Irish." Emma said briskly, flicking through the manila folder. Her brows creased together and she looked up, "How the hell am I supposed to know who he is? There's no picture." There was just a pretty non-specific description of the man that could have been _anyone_ really.

"No one has got a decent shot of him. He's pretty evasive. I'm going to need you to attend the mass at the cathedral he's "working" at. Get as cozy as you can and catch him in the act."

"Great, get cozy with a priest." Emma narrowed her eyes as she read the file over again, "Is he old?"

"It's on the next page. He's thirty-two, so it would seem. It's pretty hard to nail down a definite description and write up of him, he's changed his identity a few times, moved around, and we need to be certain that this is our guy before we go in for the kill. So to speak."

She rolled her chair up to her desk, throwing the file on top of it. "Right, so I need to attend mass? When is that?"

"It's at six tonight."

"That's short notice." Emma's brows furrowed together, but there was a complete lack of care on her face. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest. "August will just have to see the movie alone."

"Did he finally get you on a date?"

She snorted, "Only in his dreams." There was no way in hell that _that_ was ever happening. She was long past being interested in dating anyone. It seemed if she got to that point, all hell broke loose for her and she needed a roommate to foot the bill, "So I've got two hours until I go to _hell_… I mean church."

Benny laughed, tucking a pencil behind his ear as he rolled his chair around to face the blond, "Not a church goer I see. Don't they, like, make you go to church when you're in prison? To reform you and all of that shit?"

Emma gave him an incredulous look, "It's not mandatory. You only go if you want to. I didn't want too." She hadn't been in a church in nigh close to ten years. And she had never planned to go back into a church until now. "Hell, I think I have some of those beads back at my place. I should swing by and pick them up. Add to the authenticity of the whole thing."

"They're called Rosary beads. And why do _you_ have Rosary beads?"

"Ex." Emma said bluntly, giving the man a wary look. One that told him not to delve any deeper into that case file. She was a closed book on a lot of details of her past. He knew, obviously, that'd she'd been to jail for being a thief, but anything past that he could only assume and fill in the blanks.

"So are you taking this job then?" He questioned, avoiding the topic of her emphasis 'ex'. She'd mentioned him, offhandedly a few times, something about him being Irish – thus the reason for her vehement hate for an entire nation – and that he was a selfish asshole, and now clearly Catholic on top of it all.

Emma rose to her feet, leaning over and pressing her palms against the top of her desk, "I really have nothing better going on. Plus, I get to avoid August trying to make a move in a dark movie theatre."

"But that ruins the fun of shouting _incest_ at him."

"Oh, it does ruin that." Emma snapped her fingers together, feigning disappointment. "There will be another chance for that. He never gives it a rest."

"You know you'll end up married to him right. With like four kids." Benny tucked his arms behind his head, leaning back in his chair as he let out a cackle of a laugh.

"You know, I thought hell would freeze over if I went to church again, but clearly it will _actually_ freeze over if I end up with him." She walked backwards towards the door, snatching her jacket up as she went. "I'm going to hit the diner over by the cathedral, then get my ass into a pew and play church."

"Don't do anything God would be ashamed of."

"You mean I have to stop being Emma?"

The cathedral was on the _good_ side of the city – the side that Emma made a concentrated effort not to go to, because it was _nice_ and she didn't deserve nice things. She was a masochist, through and through – convinced, thanks to her past that she was pretty much set to fail. At everything. With everyone. It didn't matter what it was, but eventually it would have to come to an end. She'd break it off; because she'd sooner die rather than let someone else leave her.

In the shadow of the gothic revival cathedral's steeple, which was tarnished by the exhaust of cars, sat a small little diner. It gave the appearance of a mom and pop joint, the quintessential burger with fries and a milk shake sort of place. But Emma was pretty certain she'd seen it featured on that _Diners, Dives, and Drive-Thrus_ show on FoodNetwork, which gave her the impression that she was going to have to pay a hefty price for a slab of cheese wedged between two slices of bread.

She stepped inside, hands tucked into her pockets as she looked around the space. It had little trinkets lining the walls, those tacky ketchup and muster containers, and a diamond print linoleum floor.

Not exactly the sort of place she ate at.

"Will that be a table or booth?"

The voice jarred Emma back into reality and she turned around to face the brunette waitress standing in front of her, "Can I just sit up at the counter?"

The waitress' lips parted and she nodded her head towards the small group behind her, "Oh, I thought you were with them. Right this way then." She snatched up a menu and walked Emma to the counter, laying it down in front of her seat. "Sorry about that." It was clear to Emma that the waitress was trying to tone down the British accent that bled through in her words, no doubt a mandatory aspect of the job. Not wanting to ruin the illusion of the 60's diner for customers.

"It's fine." Emma gave a tightlipped smile as she sat down on the stool, looking back to the group she'd been mistaken for being with. They were around her age, two men and a woman – clearly the one man was the third wheel in the situation. But they looked professional, dressed in nice business clothes, clean pressed, and she really didn't see how her rumpled blouse and jeans meshed with what they had on. "Nope, I'm alone." Which meant far more than just the fact that she'd come to eat alone.

"Oh, I know what that's like." The waitress gave Emma a sympathetic smile, that wasn't really received well on her end. She hated sympathy. She'd dealt with that her whole life. In foster homes, in prison, even occasionally at work when Benny pressed for her to live a little. "It feels like you're all alone and you're drowning."

Emma canted her head to the side, brows furrowing, "I don't feel like I'm _drowning_. That's a touch too dramatic, for me." Her eyes flickered to the waitress' name tag, squinting her eyes to make out the name. _Milah_. Clearly, it was a strange name for a strange woman.

Even though she knew exactly what feeling the woman was talking about. Sometimes it came at night; the feeling of pressure on your chest, a weight pressing hard against you, pushing air from your lungs, making your head spin and you gasp for a breath that never came.

It had been ten years since she'd breathed easily.

Milah gave a good-natured laugh, but it the laugh didn't travel up to her eyes, "I was merely joking, love. I guess too many _romantics_ come in here and I get used to their rhapsodizing. That's what happens when you have Wi-Fi and an up and coming bohemian neighborhood around the block."

Emma gave her an uninterested smile, picking up the menu and looking it over. She wasn't here to talk. "Do you do hot cocoa here?"

"We certainly do. It's on the kid's menu."

"Can I _order_ off of the kid's menu?" Emma questioned snidely. She hated places that looked down on you if you ordered off the kid's menu.

"I can't see why not."

"Good. I'd like a hot cocoa with cinnamon on top and a grilled cheese on white bread." The same thing she'd eaten since she was a kid, unless of course she went somewhere that gave you dirty looks for eating grilled cheese when you were over eighteen.

"Coming right up."

Emma watched the waitress as she attended to other guests, studying her out of sheer boredom. She had always been good at reading people and sometimes, when she was out eating alone – which was always – she'd sit and watch people, and guess their backstories.

She already knew she was British, though she could tell the accent had faded from being in America for some time. Mid-forties, the subtle line of gray roots where that showed, despite the effort of dying her hair dark brown, gave that away. And from the way that the woman kept rubbing her thumb absentmindedly over her ring finger she had probably been married and was now divorced. Though Emma wasn't certain for how long. She'd known people who had been eighteen years divorced and they still played with the invisible ring on their finger.

One habit she was never going to have to deal with, _ever_, in her life.

Benny thought she needed to get married and August, obviously, thought the perfect option was himself. But she was perfectly content with where she was in life and she didn't need _anyone_ telling her to change.

Emma suppressed a groan when the waitress returned and _not_ with her food. "So, what's your name?" The older woman questioned, leaning her arms against the table with a warm smile.

"Emma."

"Are you a local, I've not seen you in here before?"

She shrugged her shoulders, looking over the menu again in attempt to shoo her off. "Kind of. I live on the other side of the city."

Milah started to say something else, but the little clink of a bell from the kitchen drew her attention away from her. "Just a tick." She patted the counter, offering another friendly smile, before she moved back to the rear counter to get the order. She returned, setting the plate and the mug down in front of Emma, "Here's your order, love."

"There's no cinnamon." Emma stated, pushing the mug back towards the woman. Cinnamon wasn't that uncommon and it frequently irked her that people forgot that aspect of her order.

"Sorry about that," She left, coming back a moment later with the corrected order.

"Thanks."

"I'm hoping my shift cover gets here soon so I can go to mass tonight."

Normally she'd give the woman a glare to get her to leave her to eat in peace, but that little detail peaked her interest. "The one across the street?" She dipped her finger into the whipped cream, licking it off, "I'm going there tonight."

"First time?"

"It's been a _long_ time." Emma's reply lacked enthusiasm, but the waitress thankfully didn't implore further, distracted by another customer calling her down the counter.

She was nice enough, but she had that typical waitress personality that rubbed Emma the wrong way. She didn't like divulging life details and some people didn't catch the simplest nonverbal cues that told them to fuck off. Really it was a wonder that August and Benny halfway liked her. She could scare off even the most accepting person with her walls.

The waitress never returned and Emma assumed she'd scurried off to the cathedral early, probably putting in those extra hours to get to heaven. She couldn't say she was upset; she got to eat the rest of her meal in silence and not play the twenty-five questions game with her. She _hated_ people like that. But generally, anymore, she hated most people she met.

Everyone got happily ever afters and she got, well, shit.

She waited until she'd seen enough people slip into the church, that she didn't think she be awkwardly accosted by priests who were overly concerned about her eternal soul. The sanctuary was just as she expected. Painfully ornate – clearly they'd spent their money on making themselves seem like a bigshit church and they didn't send any of it to the starving children of Africa.

She pulled out the beads she'd grabbed on her way across the city, threading them through her fingers as she sat back against the pew and watched the priests milling about, greeting the congregation. She kept her head down when one of the older ones started to make his way towards her and he didn't come over to bother her.

He was old and clearly not thirty-two. Not who she was on the lookout for. Truthfully she didn't know what she was looking for. If he was supposed to be thirty-two, with black hair, and around six foot tall, no one there fit the bill. Most of them were balding fifty somethings and none of them were Irish.

It would be just her luck that he wasn't working this mass which meant she'd have to come back again. That was just how it worked in the world of Emma. Nothing was easy.

The Father started preaching, droning on and on about the immorality of America today, and Emma lost focus completely. The last mass she had attended had been Easter – _ten_ years ago. It was a decent service, but she remembered, all too well, that anything was decent if _he_ was beside her.

She had been with a good Irish boy who wore his little Catholic cross nestled against the fine dusting of black hair at the 'v' of his shirt. Growing up in foster care she'd been forced to go to many church services, different denominations, and that had been the first service that she'd gone to of her own freewill. He had even offered to let her sleep in and not wake her up. After he was gone she had more or less sworn that she would never step foot in a sanctuary again.

The offerings were taken, the incense was burned, and _finally_ they were dismissed. But still she hadn't seen a single damn priest that fit the description of Lorcan Morrissey.

She was caught by a few people, forced to shake their hands and make nice. If she was going to have to come here more than once, she had to show herself friendly. At least somewhat so.

Her story was simple; Emma, backslidden Catholic, wanting to get right with the Lord and come back again, liked the way the church looked on its website. No one protested and they all welcomed her to the congregation, chatting idly about programs they offered.

She didn't have a kid, she didn't care if they had nursery. That ship sailed _long_ ago. She didn't have a significant other; she didn't give a rat's ass if they had couple's Bible study at one of the Father's houses. Because it wasn't Father Morrissey that offered it.

She had started to give up hope that she'd find the priest in question, when she turned around and _finally_ spotted a dark haired man in a clerical collar talking to one of the other priests. His back was turned to her, but she was certain that _that_ was her guy.

He had an offering plate in his hand and her eyes trained on the money in the plate. If he was a thief there was every chance he was pinching from the tithes and the church was none the wiser. She watched his fingers, looking for any movement that suggested casually slipping bills into his pocket or pushing them up his sleeve.

Her eyes lifted as he turned around and the plate fell to the floor, throwing the money against the title.

"_Fuck_," Emma swore under her breath as her eyes met the priest's piercing blue eyes. She knew them _all_ too well. That was the feeling that the waitress had mentioned – _drowning_. Her head was reeling, her pulse hammering in her ears, heart pounding in her chest.

Speaking of the waitress from the diner, _she_ was the woman on her knees in front of him, gathering up the money that had dropped. And everything about his body language towards her, brought the world crashing down over her.

"Emma!"

She tried to duck her head, turn away and high tail it out of there with some shred of respect left. But he had seen her and there was no escape now. She had to face her past.

The fact that he could so coolly approach her made her heart clench – as if ten years had meant nothing to him. No ounce of remorse or even a sign that he had missed her.

"It's been awhile." He offered, holding his hand out to shake hers.

"You know her, Father Morrissey?"

Emma swallowed thickly; she should have known it would be him. She should have known.

"Aye, I do, she was a… _friend_ a very long time ago."

Emma shook his hand, cringing as her skin brushed against his, and every emotion she'd suppressed came right back to the surface. "It feels like we were different people back then." She offered with a tight lipped smile, "She and I met at the diner across the street. Milah was it?"

"Yes." She smiled, though now she saw that the smile didn't quite meet her eyes. Much like her own. "So did you enjoy mass?"

"I did. It's been… a very long time since I've stepped foot inside of a sanctuary, I suppose it's time to get back into it." Emma's eyes flickered to Killian – Lorcan, whoever the hell he was, and offered no niceties to him.

She was going to get his ass hauled off to jail, but she couldn't let him know that she _knew_.

"I never thought you'd end up a priest."

He gave a casual shrug, tugging at the collar of his neck with a slight laugh, "Yes, well, times change I suppose." He nodded his head towards the woman at his side, "Milah here is our secretary during the day. The poor thing has to take up shifts at the diner to make ends meet."

Emma frowned, hearing that tone of compassion that went far past his 'priestly duties'. She knew that tone all too well, hell she'd been on the receiving end of it for nearly a year and a half.

"Well, we all have to do what we must to keep our head above the water." Emma put her hands on her hips, her guard completely up. "Right, well, it was nice to catch up… I have other places to be tonight."

Truthfully the only place she wanted to be right then was knocking back a shot or two and numbing that pain that had set in. Just from the very sight of him.

Of seeing him with someone else – someone who was the polar opposite of herself. Milah was older, dark hair, and despite her air of niceness Emma sensed she had an edge to her – one that gave her the impression you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of her being angry.

Which was completely unlike herself; young – well at least when they'd been a pair of thieves, blond hair, and hard on the outside but kind on the inside. She'd become harder after he left. She'd become harder after tonight.

"Emma."

"Yeah?" Emma glanced over her shoulder as she reached for the door. She met his gaze and no words were needed. Words had always failed them in the past. His eyes could convey a thousand things before a word even passed his lips.

He could never tell her _why_ so there was no point in asking him.

She took the long way home, needing time to cool off and clear her head, before facing August when she got back to the apartment. He was going to be mad about the movie, but he was surprisingly coolheaded and he'd be fine with the whole thing before the evening finished out. That was what made him easy to life with, even if he had a thing for her. He understood, to some degree, about what went on in her head.

Emma found him writing in his little office when she came in, she knocked on the open door, offering an apologetic smile. "I _did_ leave a voicemail. You weren't home when I swung by."

"I had a writer's meeting I was at. Went ahead to the theatre, you were a no show." He scratched the back of his head, turning the wheel on his typewriter with the other, "The movie was lame anyways."

"I bet you could write a better one." Emma offered up with a laugh, waving her hand towards the machine. "Then again, _you_ crank out kid's stories. Maybe Disney will hire you."

August gave a snort of laughter at that, "You can't get hired by Disney when you're rewriting fairytales, Emma."

"Hey, it was just an idea!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." August rolled his eyes at her, "You haven't _even_ read them have you?"

"You mean the stupid one about Snow White and Prince Charming having a kid? Disney sequels blow." Emma said dryly, hands on her hips, and her brows rising high on her face. "You should try to write more of what's in your head."

"Then I'd be writing _saucy_ tales about two roommates."

"Who are _siblings_." Emma winked at him, before retreating from his office. "I've had a long night, I'm having a drink and heading off." She called as she walked through the apartment, into the kitchen.

It was easy to forget about this evening once she was back in the somewhat safe atmosphere of the apartment. It _still_ didn't feel like home, no matter how hard she tried to make it feel like one. She hadn't found her place yet.

She poured a decent sized glass of whiskey, downing it with a satisfied hiss as the amber colored liquor burned the back of her throat. There was no way in hell that _any_ amount of whiskey could put her to sleep tonight. She rarely slept well as it were, without the added irritation of seeing Killian Jones for the first time in ten years.

She'd loved him. Probably still loved him, even though it was clear he'd moved on. Because that's what masochists do, love people that will _never_ love them back. Which she assumed had been the whole reason he'd left her to begin with. He'd promised to take her to some small town by the coast, up in Maine that he had heard was a perfect place to settle down – start over. But the day they were supposed to leave, he'd vanished and the cops had shown up.

Emma could only thank August for being there for her when she got out of prison. He had been the only connection she'd kept since her days in the system and when the going got tough, she was thankful that she had. Because Killian sure as hell never came back.

She was never going to find out why he had left her and maybe, it was better that way. Because assuming probably hurt less than knowing the actual truth.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't sleep at all that night. The whiskey proved to be counterintuitive and instead of putting her to sleep, it kept her wired. Going over everything that had happened that day and rehashing the past that was now being drug to the present again.

Emma rolled onto her side, pressing her cheek into the pillow with a heavy sigh. She could still vividly remembered what it felt like to lay like this and have his arms curl around her, pulling her close to him, with his nose buried in her hair - whispering promises of _never_ leaving her and being pretty damn convincing in the process.

She had loved him and if she was going to be honest with herself, she _still_ loved him. But clearly, from what she saw last night he'd moved on. To someone older than him.

That had been one of her excuses she pegged to him leaving. He was older than her, by only four years, but when you're going on seventeen and he's going on twenty-one, maybe you're too different. But that was never a fulfilling excuse for all of it. There _had_ to be something more to why had had abandoned her and she wanted to know now. She deserved that much.

If she was going to come face to face and see him another time and a time after that, for the purpose of hauling his ass off to jail for his crimes, then she _deserved_ the truth. Because a day didn't go by that it didn't hurt to remember that he promised her a life, a home, a family and he went back on that promise.

In more ways than he would _ever_ know.

In retrospect, she had been stupid to believe him. But the way his blue eyes shined when he looked down at her, the warmth in his voice, told her he was either a _damned_ good liar or that there was more to the story. Because you don't promise a girl a home and then send her to jail that very same night.

It hadn't been the first time he'd mentioned settling down somewhere up in Maine, some quaint little town that he thought could give them a new shot. But the first time he offered, she shot him down. They'd been together for only a few months and Emma wasn't ready to commit to anything with anyone. He was in, but there were still walls she had built up.

She had only had a shitty foster family; that was all she equated a _home_ to.

But, the second time he jokingly offered to move up to Maine, she accepted without hesitance.

Her heart ached to remember how he looked that night. He kissed her again and again, cupping her cheeks and telling her that he loved her and that _everything_ would be different and better up in that small town. He just knew it.

And she believed him, right up until the moment he left to get them dinner before they headed off, leaving her alone in their little motel room, and before he came back the police showed up. They told her that a tip had been called in and all that they had said about the caller was that he had an Irish accent.

Emma rolled back onto her back, scrubbing her hands over her face. It was still upsetting to think about. She had been such a _stupid_ teenager to think that a man like that, would want to be with her for the 'lifetime' that he promised to her again and again.

That night had gone horribly wrong.

She had started the evening with trying to figure out how to tell Killian the big news. It wasn't exactly what they wanted or planned for, but they had both been stupid enough in forgetting crucial details (as in condoms) enough times that it wasn't exactly a surprise. Emma had no idea how he'd respond to the news, he had alluded once or twice that his father hadn't been the nicest of men, but that he wanted to prove that he could be a better man _one day_.

And that day had come.

It was almost as if he had known, because he came out of the shower, brushing his fingers through that thick black hair of his, and looked to her on the bed and made some joking comment about going back to their 'happily ever after' town. The look on his face had clearly said that he _wasn't_ expecting her to sit up in bed and whisper that she was ready to go.

His excitement didn't match up with the fact that only an hour later he was _gone_. Forever.

Just like the baby that she miscarried a few weeks after she was admitted into the prison.

When she got out of prison, August was waiting for her. He'd come to visit her a few times in jail, bringing her little odds and ends that she desired while she sat in there for almost a year. Prison sucked, but she was thankful that at least one person in her life hadn't turned their back on her.

She didn't know why fate was being a bitch to her and bringing him back into her life. Like this. Unless this was how she was going to get her sweet revenge on him. Get cozy, make him think that the bridges were mended, and then send him to jail – just like he had done to her. But there was still some part of her that _loved_ him and she didn't know what would happen when the time came to pull the case to a close.

And it really wasn't fair that he looked good in a clerical collar.

Sleeping was pretty much useless. It was five a.m. and if she hadn't slept the rest of the night, she wasn't going to suddenly fall asleep now. She dragged herself out of bed and into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

"You're up early." August padded barefoot into the kitchen, seconds after the coffee pot clicked off. "Couldn't sleep?" He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning against the counter as he watched her pour her mug of coffee.

"So are you." Emma retorted, blowing on her coffee before taking a sip. "Also shirtless. I thought we talked about this." Her brows rose as she eyed him over her coffee mug.

August shrugged his shoulders with a good natured laugh, moving around to pour himself a mug of the coffee, "I'm up because I'm a writer and sometimes _excellent_ ideas strike at two in the morning. I'm shirtless because it's hot as hell in here."

Emma gave him a look, tilting her head to the side before looking down at how she was dressed. Sweatshirt, sleep pants, and socks. "Right, _hot as hell_."

"It was worth a shot." August laughed, scratching along his jawline as he moved across the kitchen to add sugar to his black coffee. "So you couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah, the whiskey really didn't do the trick last night."

"Is it the case you're working on?"

She tensed a little, "It's just a lot of things that are just _right there_ in my head. I don't usually sleep, I'm not surprised." She took another sip of her coffee, before sitting the mug down and heading to the fridge in an attempt to find something edible. "You ate my Chinese."

"You weren't home last night; I had nothing better to do."

Emma rolled her eyes, "Plot twist, I don't _have_ to go on your not really, but it is, even though I said no, because you're insanely persistent, dates. I had work to do." She grabbed the bag of bread in the door, walking back towards the toaster to make it.

August scoffed, "One day, it'll happen. One day."

"Only by pen and paper." Emma arched a brow, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Is that your phone ringing?" August nodded towards the hallway that led to her bedroom.

Emma groaned as she took another sip of coffee and headed back to her room, "Who the hell calls at five in the morning?" It was an unknown caller, but she answered it anyways. "Hello?"

"Emma?"

Her heart sank as soon as she heard her name pass _those_ lips. His accent was unmistakable and the way he said her name hadn't changed in ten years.

"Father Morrissey?" Emma questioned with a mocking twist to her tone. She walked across her room, pushing her door shut. She didn't need August being a snoop.

"Aye, I suppose if that's what you wish to continue with."

"That's who you are though, _right_?" Silence, they were simply listening to one another breathe, until she spoke again. "Did you want something?"

"Life hasn't been the same without you." He admitted and Emma could hear that quiet compassion that his voice had always held for her.

"I could say the same," She replied and despite the bitterness in her words, she meant it. He knew that. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

"She's not _you_." His voice had dropped to a whisper and she assumed that the very woman he was speaking of, was just in the other room. "There is no one like you."

"Damn straight." Emma laughed, pressing her lips together when she realized the amusement in her own voice. "There's only one Killian Jones and there's only one Emma Swan."

"That's how it should be." He had such a damned bedroom voice.

Emma sat down on the edge of her bed, letting out a heavy sigh. Maybe one she'd held in for ten years. "Why?"

"I can never tell you. But know that I would only have done what I did if your life was in danger."

"_Right_." She was never going to know why and she didn't know if she could believe that her life had been in danger. It seemed too far of a stretch. She was _just_ Emma. Who would want her dead?

The line lay silent for a few moments and strangely, that was _okay_. Hearing him breathing on the other side of the line, was the sound that she had missed during all of those years. The sound that could lull her to sleep.

Emma scooted back onto her bed, resting back on her pillows. "How did you get my number?"

"You filled out a visitor card." He chuckled and Emma's heart did stupid flutters at it. He was still _him_ after ten years. Still comforting, still him.

"Why did you call?"

"I couldn't sleep Emma."

She pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to smile at his words. They had both been awake and somehow, she guessed that fate knew it.

"Can we meet for coffee?"

Emma inhaled sharply at his request, "Sure." She answered quickly, her pulse thumping in her ears. This wasn't what she was supposed to be doing. She was working a case. He _had_ to get caught. "There's the Starbucks near the Paul Revere statue, if that's not too far for you."

"I'll be there at two."

"I'll see you then _Father Morrissey_." Emma whispered and she bit down on her bottom lip, fighting back the smile that trembled at her lips.

"I've missed you, lass – but I have to go now."

"Bye." Emma replied and the line went dead.

Had she really just agreed to meet him for coffee? Like _nothing_ had happened between them. Like her skin didn't burn, missing the sensation of his skin brushing against hers? Like her heart wasn't pounding in her chest, aching from all of those years of not seeing him?

Yes. Because it was her _job_.

"Who was that?" August knocked on her door, pushing it open fully. His eyes flickered around her room, narrowing as the settled on the map on her desk.

Emma tilted her head, following where his eyes were pointed. She'd gotten it out before she went to bed last night. Seeing _him_ again had brought back a lot of memories from the past. "Just someone on the case." She sat up slowly, stretching her arms out as she did. They weren't _actually_ tense; hearing Killian's soft Irish accent on the other side of the phone had relaxed her for the first time in a _long_ time. "What the hell are you looking at so intently?" Emma swung her legs over the side of the bed, palms pressing into the mattress as she eyed the writer.

"Why the hell do you have this out again?" He snatched up the map, creasing it against the fold, making her cringe. But she didn't want to give anything away. "Do you _really_ have a star labeled _home_ up there?"

"Yeah, I did it a million years ago." She retorted tersely, rising to her feet and jerking the map out of his hands. "It's stupid. I know." Carelessly she threw it into the trash can, saving face. "See, it's no big deal. That's in the past."

August gave her a curious look, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, "Why's someone from your case calling you at this hour?"

Emma flashed him an uncaring smirk, "I'm undercover. It's all a game."

"I don't want you to get hurt Emma." He said with nothing but care in his voice, though something about the look in his eyes told Emma to be wary of his intensions. She'd lived with him for nearly ten years and there were still times that she believed she couldn't trust him.

"I know. That's why you're such a good _brother _to me." Emma reminded him, nodding her head towards the door, "Get out, I need to get ready for work. I think Benny's expecting me to write up shit today for the last case."

"Did you mention something about Starbucks on the phone?"

Emma's eyes widened, "Stop being a creep August." She teased, though she flat out meant it. She hated when he acted like he could keep tabs on her. "The one by Waterfront." She lied, the one she was meeting Killian at was only seven minutes from the statue – the Waterfront Starbucks was a twenty-five minute walk from the actual meeting.

"Be careful." August gave her a look, crossing his arms across his chest, "You always wind up signed up to catch the worst of the worst."

"Always am." Emma shooed him from her room, shutting and locking the door. She knew he was right outside the door, lingering, and she didn't put it past him to follow her. She walked over to her bed, picking up her phone and looking at the number that had called her.

She didn't trust August not to follow her to Starbucks. They couldn't meet there.

Chewing on her bottom lip as she opened up the text messager to send him a text. It was the only way to make sure that August didn't hear her from the other side of the door if he was still there.

**Is your place okay to meet at? Something came up and I can't meet at Starbucks**_**.**_

She'd barely put the phone down before his message came in. **Forward aren't you? I am a priest love.**

If she could appropriately convey the eye roll she had done at that comment, into a text, she would have. **Shut up. Seriously, it's in your best interest. **

**I'm shaking in my boots. Are you rolling your eyes at me? Anyways, yes, here's my address. Same time?**

Emma felt her cheeks flush at the simple playfulness in his texts. He was _still_ him. **I'll be there at two. **

**See you then.**

She saved the address to the notepad on her phone, before deleting the entire text conversation. Just in case. She didn't want to take any chances. Not this time. _Never_ again.


	3. Chapter 3

"You look lovely," Killian said in a low voice as he stepped aside to give her room to come inside of his apartment. His smile was warm and inviting, eyes sweeping over her.

A blush rose to her cheeks at his words, making her highly aware of the fact that she had perhaps done a little _too_ much to herself for this meeting. The pressed blouse and the curled hair were way out of her normal style. But he didn't know that. "Thanks." Emma inhaled shakily as she stepped inside, taking in everything that she saw. It was a nice place, well furnished, and a woman had definitely had her hand in most of the decorations. "Your place is lovely."

He chuckled, shutting the door behind him as he ushered her into small family room. "It's home." But the word sounded empty as it slipped past his lips. "I had to clean up before you got here, it was a bloody mess."

"Does _she_ know that I'm here?" She bit down on her lip, a single brow raising upwards curiously.

Killian tensed, meeting her eyes with his intensely blue ones. "No. No, she doesn't. I simply explained that one of the fathers were coming over for tea later. Everything needed to be clean for that."

Emma smirked a little, avoiding his gaze, "Well, that's certainly the way to keep up a _healthy_ relationship. Invite your ex over and avoid telling your current that she's coming." She tucked her hands into her jean pockets, rocking from her heels to the balls of her feet. "I guess it's a good thing that I waited around the block until she left."

That had been awkward. Watching the woman who had served you dinner the night before, leaving the house of the man she was with – the man that you _still_ loved.

"Thank you for that." He scratched the back of his neck. "It could have been awkward."

Silence fell between them for a long moment, which spoke volumes of everything that _needed_ to be said between them. Ten years, thousands of _whys_ and _whats_, that might never be answered.

"I just want to make this clear," Emma crossed her arms across her chest, effectively showing that her walls were up, "I'm not here because I expect to become the _other woman_. You're a priest, after all."

Killian scoffed, "I had no intentions to make you that, lass. However you know as well as I know that I am _no_ priest." But they both knew it could happen, in an instant, despite better judgment.

Her brows shot upwards, "Are you really going to divulge your secrets to the woman you screwed over?" The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them. She cringed, hesitantly looking up at him apologetically, "Sorry that was callous."

"And well deserved," Killian replied quietly, his head bowed, avoiding her gaze. The fingers of his right hand curled around his left wrist, sliding around it – an old nervous habit of his that Emma remembered fondly. A scar encircled his wrist, one that he never really talked about getting – but then again, they both had scars they never divulged each other about.

"You're welcome to hit me if you want to as well. I'm sure ten years has done a world of good to make your anger towards me." He looked up then, meeting her eyes through his dark lashes, before he turned away.

"I'll refrain for now. It's fine." Emma tried to force an ounce of humor into her voice, but it felt almost as hollow as the word _home_ had sounded coming from him. "You mentioned drinking tea with the other priests as your cover story, have you got any to share with me."

"I actually have hot chocolate." Killian grinned at her and the smile traveled all the way to his eyes. "I ran down to the corner store. I knew it was your favorite."

"Yeah, it is…" Him remembering only proved to make her heart ache more. "Did you remember what else I like?"

"Me?" He jested as he headed towards the kitchen. He looked back, quick enough to see a smile curve the corners of her lips, before she could push it aside. "Cinnamon right?"

"Yes." Emma answered and she might have meant yes to both questions. She was confused, as she had expected to be, by all of this. She should have _hated_ him after what he did, but the anger just wasn't there. She wanted to chastise him, warn him against ever doing what he did to her to another woman, but instead she let it go. He would get his in the end. If she went through with the plan, because part of her didn't want to see him sent to jail – but the other part reminded her that an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth wasn't exactly the best way to live your life.

Revenge wasn't fulfilling.

She followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the refrigerator as she watched him prepare her hot cocoa. He was different now, clean shaven – par necessity of being a 'priest' – and a little thinner than before. Older, of course, but ten years had only proven to make him more handsome. As much as she hated to notice.

"Here you are love," Killian tilted his head, a warm smile on his lips as he held out the mug for her to take. "Just as you like it."

Emma's heart fluttered in her chest and she reached for the mug, her fingers curling around the handle, brushing against his. It was worse than shaking his hand last night, because they were all alone. She wasn't saving face and pretending she was okay in front of a crowd of strangers. She was standing in front of him, in his kitchen, and _maybe _in another life she could have been the woman that belonged there in the house with him.

"Thank you." She said lamely, her gaze still glued to his as she took a sip of the warm drink. She could drown in his eyes. Deep, blue, and all consuming.

Killian ran a nervous hand through his hair, pushing back the hair that had fallen onto his brow. He started to turn away, to break the gaze, but words fell from his mouth before he could stop them. Words that, perhaps, needed to be said. "She's not you."

"I know." Emma nodded, sitting the mug down, pressing her palms against the countertop. "You said that on the phone." She couldn't look at him, not after that look. He could disarm her completely with a look like that.

"I _mean_ it. I knew her before we ever met; she was an easy fallback for me. I needed someone."

Emma's eyes narrowed and she slowly turned around to face him, head canted to the side with curiosity. "Were you _with_ her before me?"

"In a sense." Killian scrubbed his hands over his face, "There's so much I can't tell you Emma. And I hate it. Because you _deserve_ to know the truth. You deserve to know why I left you, why you had to _hurt_."

"A lot of people deserve a lot of things." She crossed her arms across her chest, eyeing him, "You deserve to be hit by a car and I deserve the truth."

Killian arched a brow at that comment, "I thought you said it was _fine_." There was almost a tone petulance in his voice. Like he twenty again and Emma was bitching about him not stopping at the last five Motel 8s they'd passed because he thought he could go straight on till morning.

"_Right_," She snapped, fists balling at her side. "Of course, it's completely _fine_ that you left me to go to jail for something I didn't do! That you promised me a _home_ and a _life_ and a _future_ with you! And you threw it all away – for what? To pretend to be Lorcan Morrissey? To steal from a church? To fuck some woman who's twice your age?"

He deserved it. Every single second of the shouting. He deserved worse, he had _always_ known he deserved worse than what he got. He did pretty well in life considering everywhere he went he ruined something.

"Maybe we should have had coffee at Starbucks so you could get hit by a car on the way there!" She was going farther with this than she should have, but the floodgates were down. If she stopped shouting, she would cry and she'd sooner scream at him than let him see her that weak. "But I sure as fucking hell wasn't about to let August sweep in and try to play hero if he decided to follow me."

"_August_?" His entire body language shifted; his eyes trained on her face, shoulders tensing, back straight – as if he were some large cat about to go in for the kill.

That made Emma's anger come to a screeching halt, "You know him?" Of course he did, because everyone in her life was connected somehow and she was absolutely fucking done with fate pulling this bullshit on her again.

Killian didn't answer, he held her gaze for another second before he turned on his heels and headed for the water kettle again, busying himself with making a mug of tea. Ignoring her question completely.

"_Killian_."

"Did I put enough hot water in your cocoa?"

"Do you _know_ August?"

"If you need more in it, the kettle should be hot for another thirty minutes or so."

"Haven't you kept enough secrets from me?" Emma shook her head, glancing at her hot cocoa on the counter and then back to the back of his head. "You can dump my drink, I'm leaving." She lingered, giving him a chance to say something, but he didn't take it.

Until Emma was one foot out of the kitchen and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back around to face him. "You _know_ me Emma." His eyes burned with intensity as he looked down at her. They were close – closer than she would have liked, yet part of her wanted to be closer still. "You know that I'm the one who always wanted us to end up Storybrooke, from the day I met you I talked about that town. About how I _dreamed_ of going there with someone – with _you_. You know that, that was our plan. That I wanted a _home_ with you. So trust me now, when I say that what I did – the pain I caused you – was for your own good. As much as I despised doing it."

Emma searched his eyes, biting down on her bottom lip when she felt it tremble an action that brought his gaze to her lips and made her breath hitch in the back of her throat. "What does this have to do with August?"

"I _can't_ tell you." His voice cracked in desperation, the self-control he was executing painfully obvious in his blue eyes. "_Please_ Emma. Believe me. You owe me nothing after what I did. But I _need_ you…" To believe me. That was what he would have said to her, if he hadn't leaned in – closing the distance between them – and kissed her.

He shouldn't have. But there was a hell of a lot of things he shouldn't have done in his life. Self-control was not his forte. It never had been and it never had been. He had pictured it time and time again – seeing her again. Kissing her again. He never expected to have this chance.

She wasn't the _other woman_; she was always the _only woman_ for him. Milah had been the reason he found Emma, and even if he'd fallen back to her once Emma was gone from his life – she had _always_ been there.

She didn't pull away either. Her arms slid over his shoulders, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, threading through his thick dark hair that she'd _missed_. Her lips slanted over his, welcoming the sensations he pulled from her. Sensations she hadn't felt since him.

Killian turned them around, pressing her against the side of the refrigerator, magnets skittering to the floor around their feet. His arm curled around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek – deepening the kiss.

It was a hell of a kiss. It was made of apologies and truths, shouting words and tears, all rolled into a kiss that left them both breathless.

Emma broke away first, her lips still brushing against his, her arms still curled over his shoulders, holding him close to her. "I should go." Emotions were too high for her to _care_ that this complicated the case. It complicated _everything_.

"Don't go." Killian rasped out, his fingers brushing her hair behind her ears, trailing over her cheeks, "_Stay_."

"You're a priest, aren't you?"

"Only when the clerical collar's' on and that's only by word. You know full well that I'd never take that oath for real." His breath was hot against her lips, dancing over her face as he leaned in and kissed her again, his tongue sliding over her lips, seeking entrance.

Emma's lips parted beneath his, her tongue slipping out to tangle with his. She could lose herself in this moment, but she'd regret it if she did. And she didn't want _more_ regret. Not when it came to him.

There was always going to be something there with him. It was always going to be right there, ready to come to the surface, no matter what, or where, or when. That was who they were, that's who they had always been.

Since the very first night that they met and he broke through her well-crafted walls. Their connection was something that not even ten years apart could tear apart.

"_Fuck_." Emma hissed as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket, "Dammit." He swore as she pulled away from him, digging her phone out and looking at the caller I.D..

"Who?" Killian questioned, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Emma looked up at him and then back to her phone, "It's August." She sighed, rubbing her fingers over her lips, "He can wait."

"He's the reason." Killian breathed out, his words almost inaudible amidst his ragged breaths. His eyes were on hers, watching her, seeking the way her face would look once those words dawned on her.

"But, he… _helped_ me." Emma shook her head, "That doesn't make sense. Why?"

"You should go and call him back so he doesn't get suspicious, Emma." Killian stepped further away from her, nodding his head towards the door.

She stared at him for a moment, memorizing everything about the way he looked in that second. His hair tasseled, tugged at by her fingers, his lips parted – swollen from her lips against his, his cheeks flushed and his breathing ragged. _All_ because of her.

"I'm the other woman aren't I?" Emma questioned, her brows creasing together. Her pulse hammering in her ears.

"No, _no_." Killian shook his head, "She's the other woman. Because you're the one that I want."

"Then is this all we get?" Emma's hands went to her hips and she stayed glued in her spot. "Sneaking around behind the woman you're with, tiptoeing around the truth?"

"Yeah." Killian's lips pressed together, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it all. "This is all we get."

"Then this was a mistake. Coming here today, seeing you…" She shook her head, turning away from him. "I should have known better."

"You're the one who suggested meeting here Emma. You wanted to see me – _alone_."

"I didn't want August following me to the coffee shop!" Emma snapped, whirling back around to face him. "Because he was already being shady and listening to our conversation."

"What?"

"When you called this morning, he was listening in – that's why I changed the location." She crossed her arms across her chest, "He got all pissy when he found that I had that map with our home marked out on it." _Our home_. That slipped out far too easily.

"Do you _live_ with him?" Jealousy saturated his words, his eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, I have since after I got out of jail." She shrugged her shoulders, as if it were nothing, for the sheer fact that Killian looked pissed about it. _Something_ finally affected him. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Even now that you know?"

"I know _nothing_." Emma's expression fell and her gaze lingered on his face. "I still know nothing. You were cryptic and then… _this_ happened and now I'm going." She still had a case to do, she couldn't just abandon the whole thing. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"_Emma_-"

"Don't Emma me Killian." She shook her head, turning away slowly. "You have my number now. I have yours. We'll talk."

"I want to talk, I want to know about everything that you've done in these last few years. I want to know what I missed."

"A lot." She put it simply, giving him a tight lipped smile, heading for the door. He didn't know about the baby that she'd lost or that she had tried to find him, because she was stupid and young and confused. He didn't know any of that and _maybe_ one day he would, but today was not that day. "It was good to see you again."

Killian tucked his hands into his pockets, forcing a smile that didn't carry up to his eyes. "Right, yeah, it was good to see you too Emma. I might… call you."

Emma pressed her lips together, prepared to walk out the door. But she couldn't, not yet. Slowly she walked towards him again, cupping his cheek and looking up into his eyes. "I'll see you soon." She said softly, promising those words to him, despite common sense. He wasn't someone you could just say good-bye too, he lingered in your consciousness, filling every sense with _him_.

She rose up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips – one more – before she stepped away from him. "Good-bye Killian." She swallowed thickly, finally turning away from him and leaving his apartment.

She could breathe. She could _finally_ breathe. Even if was going to be short lived.

It wasn't until that night, when she was finally starting to drift to sleep peacefully, that the vibrating of her phone woke her up. She grabbed it off of her nightstand, grumbling to herself about wanting to sleep. It was late, she'd been up doing paperwork, and after the day she'd had she wanted to _sleep_.

**You ordered hot cocoa at the diner didn't you? She found the mug here. I don't know if she knows.**

Emma sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes to clear away the sleep. **I think August is suspicious. There was a Starbucks cup in his car. **

**I miss you. That was a hell of a kiss today Emma.**

She bit down on her bottom lip, smiling at the phone. **We both know what would have happened if I stayed this afternoon.**

**We would have been caught. She came back an hour after you left. **

Emma sat up, pushing her pillows behind her as she did. She stared at his text, dreading the fact that they could have been caught. **Well then maybe that's a sign.**

**Like hell it's a sign. I can't stop thinking about you.**

**Well that's sort of damning to your relationship with Milah. **

**That relationship was damned a long time ago Emma. Long before you. **

**You were twenty-one when we met, what the hell do you mean?** Emma's eyes widened as she started at his text message. He didn't make any sense, this whole mess didn't make any sense. **I just want the truth Killian.**

**August writes fairytales right? Snow White and Prince Charming's kid.**

Emma's heart skipped a beat. **Yeah, what are you telling me**?

He didn't reply for what felt like the entire night. She sat there, staring at the screen, checking to make sure she hadn't missed the message. Ten minutes later the screen lit up again, **Who is this?**

Emma laid her phone down on the bedside table, knowing full well who was on the other side of that text message. She just hoped he'd deleted the text messages before Milah had grabbed the phone.

How the hell did she get into this mess? She was supposed to be investigating some asshole fake priest named Lorcan Morrissey, not falling into some secretive romance game with Killian Jones. She just wanted answers.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: This chapter is on the higher end of T, it also came together really STRANGELY, I don't know what happens anymore. I just tell my muses to call me when they really need me. But, um, enjoy!_

* * *

Three text messages that seemed like they were out of place with the way Killian had texted her in the past and two attempt phone calls where both sides of the line were silent. She knew exactly what that meant. Milah had found him texting her number, gotten suspicious, and was clearly testing the waters to see who she was. Because it sure as hell wasn't Killian on the other side.

A week past and the messages ended, but Emma still doubted that texting him was safe now. Milah didn't seem like a stupid woman. But one thing that Emma did know, the one thing that Killian had said that stuck with her and lulled her to sleep – Milah was the other woman, she wasn't. Despite it all, _that_ made whatever this was alright. Even if whatever it was, was over before it even started.

"A watch pot never boils and a watched phone never rings." Benny teased as he walked up behind Emma, tapping on the back of her chair. "What the hell are you waiting for? Every day you come in here and stare at your phone like you're waiting for that million dollar phone call."

Emma pushed her fingers through her hair, letting out a short laugh, "Something like that." She snatched up her phone, tucking it into her pocket. "Just an old friend that's in town, just waiting for a call from them."

"Ah," Benny gave her a little smirk as he walked around her desk, "_Male_?"

"Mhm," Emma rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the computer screen, leaning back in her chair. "On a work related note," And a personal one as well, "I'm going over to the cathedral today, they're having confession, I figured why not act like I'm wanting to be involved there." She shrugged her shoulders, trying to keep as neutral on the topic as possible.

There was every chance that she would see him – which might have been her actual plan. Seven days without seeing him, after seeing him again felt like ten years all over again. And she hated that sensation, but it was there and there was no ignoring it. Or, with her luck, he'd flown the coup and she'd _never_ see him again.

But waiting around and hoping that the voice on the other side of the line would be his, wasn't working for her. She had to go and she had to find out whether or not this was ever going to work out. Because it didn't feel like cheating, she didn't know why, but it felt like Milah was just in their way and so was August.

Whatever it was, she wasn't going to stop until she got Killian to tell her. She was done with this mystery game, she wanted to know who and what ruined their lives, because Killian was clearly not happy with where he was stuck right now.

"When are you going over there?" Benny questioned, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Emma glanced at her watch, "An hour, I should get going. Traffic that way is a bitch." She checked her phone again, sighing when she noted the lack of missed messages. She stood, tucking it back into her pocket before heading for the door. "I should be back later this afternoon. Otherwise I'll just stop by tonight to file some papers and head home."

"Have fun playing church." Benny retorted with a stifled laugh, turning his back on her as he headed towards the filing cabinets.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll make God proud." Because keeping some secretive fling, with a man who was in a relationship, and on top of that a _priest_ – was _exactly_ what God wanted. "See you later Benny."

The church was fairly empty when she arrived for confessional, a few priests milled about, talking with members of the congregation. She put on the charm, shaking their hands and chatting idly, until she saw Killian and he was watching her.

He was there – he hadn't left. And the look on his face when their eyes met, told her that he had been waiting to see her too. His eyes lit up, bright blue – noticeable even from this distance – and his lips curved upwards with a smile. He nodded his head to her, making certain that they'd acknowledged each other.

Her heart was doing somersaults in her chest.

"Are you here for confession?" He questioned, glancing around warily as they came face-to-face again.

"Yes." She tucked her hands into her pockets, rocking back on her heels, "I guess I… need to do that."

"If you don't mind being face-to-face with your confessor, I can assure you that my office is a very private place for confession." He masked a smirk that quirked the corners of his lips and she tried to maintain calm in the face of what she wanted.

"I wouldn't mind. The sins are embarrassing, but I think I can make it work." She bit her lip, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. "Lead the way _Father_."

Killian's eyes lingered on her face, dropping to her eyes and they both knew what they were thinking of in that moment. The kiss. A week in the past and yet it was staring them in the face.

"So," Killian shut the door behind them, turning the lock – just in case – before turning back to face her, "What would you like to confess _Miss Swan_?"

"Well," Emma chewed on her bottom lip, her pulse drumming in her ears. She wanted to remind herself that this was for the _case_, but she was in far too deep to focus on the case anymore. This was about the past ten years, about them, about this, about the questions she had. "_Father_, is it a sin to lust after a man who's with another woman?"

"Is this man married?" He questioned, tucking two fingers into his collar and tugging at it.

"No he's not." Emma shook her head, the faintest smile on her lips. "He's just been with her for a long time."

"But he's not bound to this woman by God," He reminded, tapping his finger against his lips, which drew her attention to them, a shiver running up her spine. "Perhaps he is with her for another reason. Perhaps… he'd rather be with you. Wish he had never left in the first place."

"Sounds like you know my story," She crossed her arms across her chest, not because she was wanting to wall him out again, but because that damned chill that ran up her spine, made her shiver noticeably. "Maybe you know why he left?"

Killian chewed on the corner of his lip, his head bowing forward, with a sigh that carried the weight of the past ten years in it. "I might. I might know a lot of answers to questions you have Emma."

"Please look at me," Emma said quietly, blinking her eyes rapidly, feeling the prick of tears in them. "I'm tired of _wondering_. I want to know."

"_Emma_-"

"Don't!" She stepped forward, grabbing ahold of his hands with hers, refusing to let him avoid this subject. "I have to know. I deserve to know. I'm tired of feeling like everyone knows about my life and I'm the only one left in the dark."

"Someone threatened to kill you if I didn't leave!" Killian snapped, jerking his hands out of her hold. "Because that person is a fucking lowlife coward who thinks the longer he keeps the Savior away from her home, he can keep living that pathetic existence he calls a life." He looked down into Emma's eyes, the jealous she'd seen in them once before had returned again. "He loves you, you know. Thinks everything will be _right_ if he gets you to love him too. He thinks that he can keep avoiding what fate expects of all of us then."

"You mentioned August the other day," He lips trembled as she spoke, the realization of everything hitting her. "But why me? Why ruin what you and I had… I don't love him, I never have. I never _will_. Why would he threaten to _kill me_ to get you away from me?"

It made sense. That August was involved. He had been there the day she got out of jail, ready and raring to have her in his life. He'd sent her postcards, little notes, and a few packages, her whole time in prison.

"Because you are _so_ much more than you think you are Emma. There's this whole…" He stepped away from her, turning to face the window in his office, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, making the thick strands, stand up and look like a mess. "Emma…." Killian whispered, shaking his head. "I became a priest to hide who I am, because I _don't_ exist here. There is no Killian Jones listed anywhere, that _is_ me." He looked over her shoulder, "I knew Milah a _long_ time ago – and I thought she was dead, before I ended up here in this world."

"_World_? Killian have you lost your fucking mind?"

"I've not, no… However I _was_ out of my fucking mind when I left you. You believed so much more back then. You thought we were going to have a happy ending and I _finally_ had a chance to have mine. I've lived long enough to deserve that now." The desperation in his voice struck her as the same desperation that dwelt with in her. "I wanted a family, I wanted that home in Storybrooke. I wanted _you_."

"_Wanted_?" Emma questioned, stepping closer to him, "Not want?" She didn't know what she was doing. Her thoughts were spinning – trying to make sense of what he was trying to tell her, without telling her the entire truth.

"_Emma_." He growled out her name, his arm going around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Not talking to you this week _killed_ me. I went ten years thinking that I'd never see you again, that we'd never cross paths, that my chance at happiness had passed me by. Milah's a lost soul. I don't even know how the hell it happened – how she lived. Because in my world, she was very much dead."

"You keep talking about this _world_?" Emma's brows creased together, "You're not telling me that those stories that August writes are _real_ are you?" She was perceptive; she'd learned how to read between the lines. That's what happened when you lived with a writer.

"Yes." Killian's eyes set on hers, holding her gaze as it wavered and confusion knit her brows. "I am, Emma…" He trailed off, lifting his hand, jerking the cuff link off of it, bearing the scar around his arm for her to see clearly. "I lost this hand over a _hundred_ years ago."

"But it's there." Emma said quietly, shaking her head, "What the hell are you trying to tell me?"

"Captain Hook…"

Emma pulled away from him then, holding her hands out to keep him back. "You're fucking insane."

"_Emma_." He followed her as she headed towards the door, "Please don't go, please just listen to me. Please, this is my _last_ chance to see you."

"What?" That made her turn around, "What do you mean that this is the last chance I have to see you?" He wasn't leaving again was he? He wasn't taunting her with the truth or this obscured variation of the truth and then leaving her. Was he?

"Milah." Killian shook his head, "Your damned drink order was suspicious. Then the texts… _Fuck_ Emma, I don't want to leave again. I don't want to say good-bye to you and never see you again because a ghost of my past doesn't want me to love again."

"You're making no sense." Emma's voice shook as she spoke. None of it made sense to her. She just wanted the _truth_.

Killian ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes clenched shut in frustration. "Emma, _please_, please just listen to me. I know you don't even owe me that much. I don't even deserve to see you again because what I _had_ to do was against everything I ever wanted for you. I wanted you to have that life you hoped for, but that _bastard_ ruined it all." Despite the hostility in his words, he brushed gentle knuckles over her cheek, his brows knitting together. "He doesn't want you to go to Storybrooke, because if you break the curse – he turns into wood again, because he's _failed_ at the task he was meant to do." His eyes flickered to his wrist, shaking his head. "I lose my hand if the curse is broken. But I'm willing to make that sacrifice for you so that you can be reunited with your family again."

"What?" Her eyes widened at his words and she grasped for his hand, taking it in hers. "My _family_?" The only family she thought that she would _died_ when she was in prison. She had dreamed of getting out of prison, finding him, raising the family they had discussed in the past. But that dream died.

"_Emma_."

"Stop Emma-ing me and tell me the truth." She reached for the lapels of his suit, jerking him closer, her eyes holding his gaze. "_Killian_." Emma breathed out, suddenly aware of how close she'd brought him to her, how close his lips were to his. "Don't leave me again."

Killian brushed her hair behind her ears, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. "I never thought I would see you again, love. Then, there you were that evening in church and…"

"Yeah, that was because I was supposed to be arresting some asshole named Lorcan." Emma shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip, "I guess that's not happening. Even though after I found out it was you, I wanted have your ass hauled off to prison like you did to me."

"He did that to you, not me. I left, that was all I did. But I guess he thought locking you up would keep you from finding me." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes falling closed. "Milah wants us to leave tomorrow, just up and skip town and leave everything we've started here. I don't love her Emma… I haven't loved her in a _very _long time. Before you."

"You were a kid when we met."

Killian arched a brow, "If you believed me I'd tell you a little bit more, but you don't so perhaps _one day_ you'll find out." His eyes fell to her lips again, swallowing thickly. "I never stopped loving you Emma."

Emma bridge the scarce distance between them, pressing her lips against his. She needed to feel them again, to feel the warmth that flooded through her when his lips met hers and his arm curled around her back. Pressing her close to him.

She could lose herself in his lips; in fact, she could lose herself _completely_ in him. Something like this – what they had, didn't just go away.

His fingers gently cupped her cheek, leaning in to deepen it, pressing her back against the door more firmly. His lips parted against hers, his breath dancing over her lips, "I choose you Emma. I can't lose this again."

"I can't lose _you_." Emma assured him again, her fingers sliding through his dark hair, tugging lightly at the thick strands between his fingers. "I'll try to believe this, to believe you."

"I-" He started, kissing her again; letting his lips linger against hers, "worship the wrong _Savior_." He chuckled, a smile curving each corner of his lips.

"Oh, am I a savior or something?" Emma retorted, nipping at his bottom lip. "I don't feel very worshipped." The words slipped out before she could stop them and her eyes widened in horror. "Oh my god… I didn-"

But his lips were pressed against hers again and her words were silenced against his lips. Because she did mean it, in some small part - no one had ever made her feel the way that he did. No one wanted her with the sort of desire that burned between them. There was _no one_ like Killian Jones.

Emma's fingers found their way between them, tugging at the buttons of his shirt, jerking the material out from his pants where he had it tucked in. It was safer there – in the sanctuary of a church and a locked door, behind the guise of a priest and a dutiful Christian. No one would suspect that their confession came between each other in ragged breaths, fingers grasping for purchase, making up for their lost time. Their names falling from each other's lips like desperate prayers.

Clothes fell away, discarded to the floor – unneeded. It had been _too_ long, but their bodies remembered. Long forgotten spots that the other remembered, fingers, lips, tongue teasing those tender places, making the desire run deeper between them.

He hauled her upwards in his arms, groaning against her lips as her legs curled around him and she ground against him, finger nails biting into his shoulders. Emma bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out as her teasing was rewarded with a thrust that brought their hips flush together.

The world could have ended around them and she wouldn't have cared. So long as _he_ was there. She couldn't imagine a world without, not now –_ especially not now_. Not when she found him reminding her that he was the _only_ one that made her desperate for what he had to give. Sex had always been to pass a few hours and to scratch the itch. It had never been like _this_.

"Come away with me Emma." Killian whispered against her lips, threading his fingers through her hair. "I'm not losing you again."

"Go w-.._where_?" Emma gasped when he hit that _sweet_ spot and the lines between thought and desire faded away. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks against his skin.

"_Home_." He caught her lips again in fear of what she might say. That she might decline and ruin the moment, break the façade they might have built up between them in the moment.

Emma wasn't certain when or how they ended up on the floor by his desk – a good six feet away from the door, but she couldn't say that she cared all that much. His arm was curled around her, her cheek was pressed against his cheek, and in the haze of it all, she could imagine that he hadn't left to begin with, that they hadn't been apart for ten years.

"I think that that is the second time your phone has rung." Killian pointed out, though his thumb didn't cease the pattern it was rubbing against her back. "You should get it."

"I don't want to." Emma tilted her head just right so that he could see that she and closed her eyes. "I'm comfortable."

"We can't stay here all day. They'd really get suspicious then."

"I'll go with you." Emma whispered, her eyes fluttering open, inhaling sharply when she met those too blue eyes of his. "I still think you're possibly fucking insane. But, this feels like the right choice to make. A second chance."

Killian leaned in and pressed a kiss against her lips, brushing his fingers through her hair, "Tomorrow morning."

"I'll pack as much as I need to night and avoid August finding out."

"That's probably whose calling." Killian laughed, resting his head back against the floor again.

Emma rolled her eyes, "Of course it is. I don't even care." She chewed down on her bottom lip, resting her chin against his chest. "I've always wanted a home and you're the _only_ one who's wanted to give it to me." Home was where the heart was after all and she knew where hers had been for the last ten years.


	5. Chapter 5

She had stayed in his office _way_ later than she'd intended to, he had left it for a little while, to make it seem like he was doing work, but then he returned and they spent the next two hours continuing what they had started earlier in the afternoon. After so many years apart – so many years that _clearly_ were not spent apart by their choosing, it was hard to _not_ fall back into their old pattern. The emotions were all still there, the need and the want to just be _held_ by one another. Even just simply that was more than enough.

And soon they'd be free, on the road again, and nothing was going to stop them this time. They were getting their second chance and _no one_ could stop them. Not Milah or August, or whatever game the Fates were playing. This was what they wanted and nothing was going to keep it from happening.

Emma dreaded returning to the apartment, it was almost eight in the evening and _well_ past when she normally returned from work. Having avoided her phone the entire time she'd been with Killian, she realized that the writer had called her _seventeen times_ until he finally gave up trying to get ahold of her. He was going to be pissed, but when was he not?

To her she looked like she had spent the afternoon and better part of the evening with Killian's fingers tangling her hair and his lips bruising hers with desperation. But she hoped after fixing her appearances in the car, it just looked like she had had the day from hell at work.

"Hey," Emma said quietly as she slipped into the apartment, tossing her keys down on the small table by the door, before hanging her coat on the coat rack.

"Look what the cat dragged in," August jeered, slowly pushing himself up off of the sofa where he was draped, drinking a beer and watching a football game. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Work." She answered quickly, "It's been a hell of a day and all I want to do is sleep." She lamented, heading into the kitchen to find something to eat, hearing the floors creak behind her as he followed. "I didn't get your calls till I got back to the car."

"Why's that?" August leaned heavily against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest.

Emma turned around, her face completely emotionless, "I left it in my car…?" She cocked a brow, eyeing him before turning around to rummage in the fridge. "Dammit, you ate the pizza I was going to eat." She commented, glancing back at him.

"Sorry." He replied lamely, shrugging his shoulders, "I wanted to go out to dinner with you, but you didn't answer your phone. Why do you even have that thing?"

"I forgot it, sheesh. It's not a crime against humanity, I promise." She gave him a wide-eyed look, shaking her head. "I hope you haven't eaten all of the ramen noodles." Emma crossed the kitchen, grabbing the package out of the cupboard, and moving towards the microwave to prepare it. "What's your deal?"

"I'm _tired_ of waiting around for you to realize that you're in love with me."

Emma's eyes widened, "We've been through this."

"_Emma_," He stepped forward and the desperation in his voice was drastically different from the desperation that Killian's voice had held when he muttered her names. "It's been _ten_ years, you've lived with me for _ten_ years and you know full well what I feel for you."

"I know." Emma averted her gaze, turning around back to the microwave, the hairs on her neck standing on end as she felt August step up behind her. She just had to deal with one more night of this and tomorrow she'd be on the road to _home_. "But, that's not how I feel about you. I can't just make myself like you like that. That's not how it works."

August ran his hand down her back and she flinched, every muscle in her body tensing. "Get your hand off of me."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her waist, "You don't even know if you could like me. You haven't tried"

Emma shoved his hand off of her, turning around to face him. "You're drunk and you need to _stop_ this. Before I make you."

"I could make you." August muttered, "Shit, I didn't mean it like that."

"Go to bed." Emma pushed him square in the chest, giving herself space. "You're being creepy."

"I am in love with you Emma." His voice strained and maybe, if it had been any other day, she could have cared. But not now. Not when she knew he had some hand in her being _alone_. He didn't get her sympathy then.

"Seriously, you're drunk and you need to back off."

"_Fine_." August gritted out, but he didn't move away, not until he had leaned in and stole a kiss from her lips. She shoved him away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Emma.. _please_ I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that!"

"Fuck off August." Emma snapped, glaring at him. "I'm going to eat this ramen and then I'm gone."

"Please don't leave me Emma…" August reached out for her, but regretted the action instantly. "I don't want to be alone."

"Neither do I… But I didn't have a _choice_ in that did I?" She jerked her ramen out of the microwave, slamming the door shut. "Out of my way." Emma shooed him, stepping past him for a fork from the drainer. "No, of course not, apparently I'm a pawn and you just _love_ chess."

August stiffened, "You've spoken with him."

"Spoken with _who_?" Emma tossed back flippantly, turning around to face him as she backed out of the kitchen.

"Killian Jones."

She scoffed, "It's been ten years since I talked to him." Her brows shot upwards, "Don't try to get defensive and pull out shit from the past when I call you out on being a fucking creep. I have said no for ten years because I do _not_ want you!"

There was no way she could eat now. Her stomach was flopping and she felt like she was going to be sick. Today had been full of highs and lows and she was so fucking done with all of it. "All of this is bullshit August. I'm tired of dealing with you constantly coming at me like you think I'll suddenly want you. Well, I don't. After today I sure as hell _never_ want to be around you again."

"Where will you go?"

Emma wanted to test his limits, "That town that I meant to go to ten years ago before you showed up. Maybe that place is my home. Maybe I will finally be happy."

"No!" He panicked, "No, no, no. Please don't go there Emma – _please_!"

"Tough." Emma slammed her bedroom door shut, locking it and throwing her bowl of ramen on the top of her dresser.

She needed to pack – as light as possible.

It wouldn't be the first time she piled her life into a small bag and threw it into the back of her bug and took off. She really only needed a spare change of clothes, her hair brush, her tooth brush, and the blanket she had from when she was a baby. It wasn't much, but you didn't really need much to survive with.

Plus, she'd have Killian with her and that future that had been ten years in the making. _Finally_.

There was nowhere to go for the night. She had never really made friends, except for August and even back then, she'd always felt like she had no choice except to be his friend. But Killian, he had been a choice both times – but it wasn't like she could show up at their apartment and beg for a place to stay. They were trying to avoid Milah. They already had enough complications.

When she came out of her room, August was passed out on the sofa, and she didn't even care to say good-bye to him. After what he just pulled and what she _knew_ now. There were no good-byes for him, it was good riddance. If he was truly behind everything, if there was really some curse and some other world – he was the reason behind keeping her away from it all. And it made sense.

The car proved to be just as uncomfortable of a sleep as she remembered. Her neck ached, her back was sore, and she was fairly certain she'd gotten a grand total of an hour of sleep. She jerked awake when someone heard a knocking on the window glass. She rubbed her eyes, blinking at the sunlight that streamed in through the windshield, turning her head to look towards the direction of the knocking.

Emma's heart dropped, "Hi." She said groggily, rolling her window down and looking up at the woman standing outside of her car, "It's Milah right…?" No, no, no, no, _no_. "Am I in trouble for sleeping out here?"

"I don't know yet." The brunette snapped out harshly, looking past Emma as her phone lit up, "So you were the woman on the other line. I should have known."

"_What_?" Emma feigned innocence, her gaze flickering to her phone. "It's…"

"Killian's phone." Milah snapped, pulling out a phone from her pocket and showing that it was dialing _her_ number. "I knew there was something up between the two of you. The way he looked at you that night in the sanctuary… I should have _known_. How long have the two of you been screwing around."

Emma didn't even know how to process this. "I-… We… just ran into each other after _ten_ years. It's not like that." But it was. "I came over to his apartment, had cocoa, left for work. We just caught up."

"He didn't come home until late last night."

"Alright?" She eyed the woman hesitantly, "I was at work."

"You're a bounty hunter aren't you?" She'd done her research and it made Emma's skin crawl. Where the _hell_ was Killian?

"I am, but I backed the hell off of this case as soon as I recognized that it was him!" She started to roll the window up, "I need to go to work."

"Why the hell are you here then if you got off of this case?"

"I _have_ to go." Emma threw her hands up in innocence, "I'm sorry." She started the car up, putting it into drive. She was thankful that Milah didn't try to pull some shit – jump in front of her car and act like she tried to kill her. She backed off and stayed back.

She didn't need this shit – she just wanted to go _home_.

Killian wasn't there and she assumed… _feared_ that he'd taken the easy way out and ran – again. And it made her feel like she was just a serious of unfortunate fuck ups. She always chose the wrong people, the wrong places, the wrong paths.

She had been an idiot to go to the church yesterday, to see him alone, to fuck him. And she had believed him. Honest to God _believed_ him even though the idea of other worlds and curses and all of that bullshit sounded like some fucking lala land.

But she couldn't break down, not over him, even if he wasn't there to see her crack. Twice now she'd let him get the best of her, but to what end? What did leading her on get him at the end of all of this? Freedom?

No she was going to nail his ass this time.

Emma pulled into the parking lot for work, bowing her head forward against the steering wheel. She was a _fucking moron_. Shame me once, shame on you – shame me twice, shame on me. There wasn't going to be a third time. She was done with this bullshit.

And now her phone was ringing and she sure as hoped it wasn't him coming up with some lame ass excuse for why he wasn't there – but Milah was.

"Hello?" Emma snapped, slamming her car door shut as she got out of it.

"Emma… I fucked up, I'm in the drunk tank at the jail and I don't think they _know_… But I need you to come bail me out."

"What the hell happened?" Her voice softened, her pulse thumping in her ears. If he got found out, there was no way she could do anything about it. That was too far up for her to deal with.

"I didn't want to go home to Milah last night, I went out to my favorite pub and _he_ was there. Fucking asshole bailed before the police could catch him." He sighed heavily, "I need you, love. Get me out of here before the realize…"

"I'll be there in like fifteen minutes." Emma shook her head, turning back around towards the car, getting back in and starting it up again. "What happened?"

"He started a fight with me. He was already drunk. Bitching about me stealing you again and taking you over and over again. He swung, I swung back, I go a black eye and a broken nose and he's _maybe_ got a bruised rib."

"Well, didn't we have a fun night and morning? I got cornered by Milah." Emma rolled her eyes, "Right, I need to get off the phone. I'll get there soon."

"Then we can hit the road for real."

It took almost an hour and a half to process him out and Emma waited with baited breath for the other shoe to fall and for them to realize who he was. But it didn't come.

"You look like _hell_." Emma couldn't help but tease him as he came out with the officer. He looked like someone who had a hangover from hell, a broken face, and had spent the night in the drunk tank.

"Thanks." He answered dryly, giving her a dirty look as the officer took off the cuffs. "Right, I'm free now, are we going to get on the bloody road now?" Killian reached for her hand, lacing their fingers as they headed out of the police station.

"You know, I thought you weren't coming." Emma said quietly, stopping them in front of the bug, "I thought that I'd fucked up again and that you were… _gone_."

"Like hell I'd leave," Killian cupped her cheek, staring into her eyes, "I'm not going anywhere, Emma. Not again." He leaned in and stole a soft kiss, sighing against her lips. "Did that bastard really kiss you last night?"

"It was awful." Emma scrunched up her nose, "He was drunk and he just went for it."

"I could say the same about my face." Killian gestured to the bruising, "He saw me, went straight for me, and then ran the second the police showed up."

"Sounds about like him. I left last night, I thought he'd stay passed out on the sofa. Clearly, I was wrong." Emma unlocked the car, smiling at him, "But it doesn't matter now. You're going to show me this _magical_ realm right?"

"Well, from what I understand, there's nothing too fantastic there. Not yet, not until you get there and believe." Killian clapped his hands together, rubbing them as he spoke, "But, let's get there first and then we can go into your duties."

"_Duties_?"

"Don't you remember the _Savior_ thing? I wasn't just being a spiteful priest and calling you my god." Killian licked his lips, settling into the seat beside her, "You're going to be _they're_ salvation. You've already been mine."

Emma started the car up, shooting him a sideways glance, "You know you're a very strange man Killian Jones."

"And _you_ Emma Swan are the tiniest bit in love with that _strangeness_."

She flashed him a 'bitch-please' smile, before turning her attention to the road in front of her. He was right, but she wasn't going to flat out admit that to him. Not yet – even _yet_ was a stretch. She had loved him once, but that was a very long time ago. But a love like that, she figured, didn't just go away. And it wasn't just his strangeness that she'd fallen in love with.


	6. Chapter 6

"How about for the next thirty minute you suspend the illusions of reality and quit looking at me like I'm bloody insane and just _listen_ to what I have to say." Killian's hands were on his hips, his head canted to one side as he stared at the blond who was unpacking her modest bag of belongings.

"Well, _maybe_ I could do just that if you hadn't just told me that the woman down stairs at the front desk was supposed to be the little old lady from _Red Riding Hood_, or that the trampy girl was Red herself.

"Her name _is_ Ruby after all." He pointed out with a serious expression. "Come on, love, just for thirty minutes, listen to what I have to say. We've made it this far, we're here in Storybrooke, we've made it _home_."

He had her there, the moment the drove past the _Welcome to Storybrooke_ sign, she felt a wave of comfort, like she was finally coming home. She'd pegged it for exhaustion, four hours in the car and a hellishly awful night's sleep, and the relief that she could curl up in a hotel bed and sleep it off. But, maybe he was onto something – or maybe he was batshit insane.

"Fine, _shoot_." Emma flopped down onto the mattress, her eyes flickering around the room and taking in all of the knickknacks on the walls. A small painting of a ship caught her attention and she smiled, "Don't tell me, that's _your_ ship."

"What?" Killian glanced over his shoulder, studying the painting for a moment, "That _is_ the Jolly Roger."

"You really think you're _Captain Hook_, don't you?" Emma tilted her head, brows raised and a tormenting grin plastered to her face. "Right."

"I said thirty minutes." Killian huffed, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, hands steepled together and forearms resting on his legs. He bowed his head, letting out a heavy sigh of frustration, "Just listen Emma, then afterwards you can laugh at me and call me insane, but for now just fucking listen." His accent seemed that much thicker when he swore, or maybe it was just the irritation bleeding through that dropped into that lower, growl like tone.

"Fine." Emma tucked her arms behind her head, "I'll listen, but like hell, I'll believe. Your story of being whatever you are, doesn't add up to the man I met ten years ago."

"Actually, it does." Killian turned his head to look at her as he spoke, "There's a curse here in town, makes time a little _off_. It's twenty-eight years old and was created the day you were born, by the Evil Queen-"

"_Evil Queen_. Don't tell me she's the Mayor of this town _right_?" Emma mocked, giving him a teasing expression.

"Actually, yes." Killian met her gaze without even a sliver of a smile. "I was here for the first fifteen years or so, bright eyed eighteen year old, raring for a fight against my advisory and to avenge the death of my love. _Milah_." He tensed, shaking his head, "I'd discovered, through the Queen, that she was alive – somehow cast into the _real_ world, by the spell. She had been dead in my world, buried at sea, but apparently, not everything stayed dead. I found a way to leave and I went search for her. I found my way into a church; they housed and fed me, giving me comfort on my journey to find her. But it wasn't long until the lure of piracy, or just sheer _thievery_ as it is coined here, attracted me. I met you and the moment I did, I knew exactly who you were. I guess we were drawn together, by some force of fate, because I _shouldn't_ have been there, if I hadn't gone searching for Milah."

"So…?" Emma sat up, staring at him as she chewed on her bottom lip, "Why am I so special?"

"Because you're the one can break the curse and remind everyone who they really are. You see. August – Pinocchio – will turn back into wood when the curse is broken. He broke a promise, he lied, he's destined to become a puppet again, that's why he tore me from you. He's a vain man and he's a coward. He threatened to kill you if I didn't leave and the provided me with the address of where Milah was. He said he'd take care of you and I _hoped_ that it meant taking you to Storybrooke… But that never occurred. And I should have known, I should have come back and taken you here and ended all of this back then. But instead you went to prison and it _should_ have been me."

Emma moved on to her knees, moving down the bed to sit beside him. "You're insane." She said softly, resting her cheek against his shoulder, sliding her hand down until it rested on the scar on his left wrist. "And you'll lose this?"

"Aye," He hung his head, "I'll lose my hand, August will return to wood, and Milah will perish. But _you_ will have your family back."

"I lost my family when I was in prison Killian." Emma's eyes brimmed with tears and her heart lurched when he met her gaze with confusion. "I wasn't going to tell you."

"Tell me _what_?" Killian cupped the back of her head, before pulling her into a hug, trying to console the teary eyed woman. "_Shhh_ Emma, love, it's alright. Just tell me what you mean."

"I-… _was_ pregnant." Her voice cracked and she pulled away from his hold, wiping at her eyes, stealing a glance up at him, before looking away from. The expression on his face broke her heart. His eyes widened, his lips parting – trembling – words failing him.

Then there were tears.

"You… were… _Emma_." He pulled her back to him, needing her in his arms, needing to bury his nose in her hair, feeling her shaking in his arms. "No words can say… how _sorry_ I am." He kissed the crown of her head, his hands sliding up and down her back, trying to convey emotions they should have faced _together_ all of those years again.

"I just figured that it wasn't meant to be, just like _we_ weren't meant to be and…" She shook her head, swallowing back a sob. "_Now_."

Killian pressed a kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger there, brushing against her skin as he spoke, "I should have been there with you. I should have never left."

"It was a long time ago." She shook her head, looking up to his eyes quickly, before looking away. "There's nothing that can be done now… But you deserve to know it." And maybe, just maybe, she'd intended for it to stop his story.

"I'm still sorry." Killian whispered, kissing her temple again, "If I get my hands on August again…"

"He already did a number to you." Emma cracked the smallest of smiles, pulling back to look at him. "Your eye looks awful."

"It hurts something fierce." Killian winced she reached up and brushed her fingers over his cheekbone under the bruising. "You got me off topic."

"I did. What you're saying is _insane_ Killian." She chewed on her bottom lip, her brows creasing together. "You're saying that I am something that I _can't_ be. I can't fix this place… Besides, if I _could_ do you really want to lose your hand?"

"I'd lose both if I had to." Killian said seriously, his too-blue eyes holding her gaze. "Sooner or later, something's going to convince you that it's all true."

Emma rolled her eyes, "So far all I've seen is a quiet _normal_ town Killian, how the hell is any of that going to convince me that it's 'secretly' full of story book characters. I mean, I know that the stories you're telling me sound like the ones that August wrote… but _seriously_?"

"Seriously." Killian cupped her cheeks, the sadness still there in his eyes. "You'll have to do a lot of the exploring here in town, on your own."

"Why?" Her brows furrowed and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Because, like I said before, I was with Milah a _long_ time ago. But when we left together, she was married and the man she was married to – Rumplestiltskin – killed her and-"

"Are you fucking serious right now?" She scoffed, pushing his hands off of her face, "You expect me to believe that? If Milah is alive then how was she _killed_?"

"I told you that something about the curse caused it Emma!"

"Oh, right, and what did this man do – take your hand too?"

"_Yes_." Killian widened his eyes for emphasis. "Hence the whole _Captain Hook_ thing that I told you about." This time, he was the one to roll his eyes, "Which is why, I'll be staying here, while you go and explore town."

"Nope, I'm sleeping. I didn't sleep at all last night, then Milah was at my window when I woke up, then you were in jail, and we were in the car for four hours. _I_ am sleeping." She gave him a challenging look. "You can either join me or sleep on the floor."

"You wound me, love." He pressed his hand to his chest, tilting his head to the side, his eyes looking very much like puppy dog eyes and bedroom eyes, all at the same time.

"Be impressed I even offered to let you stay in the bed with me," Emma arched a brow, "I haven't really done that since I was with you."

Killian's cocky expression softened into a loving smile, "_Well_, that's how it should be, aye?"

"You can look so sincere and still sound so damn cocky. That's a skill." Emma kicked off her boots, shucking off her leather jacket onto the floor beside the bed, flopping back against the pillows. "I still hog the covers."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't still do that." He winked at her, kicking of his shoes and slipping beneath the covers beside her. "You know…" Killian started after a long, silent moment, "I know you don't want to talk about this place, but you and I still need to discuss what happened when you were in prison."

"I miscarried." Emma said weakly, "There was nothing they could do. It was probably…"

"The stress of it all." Killian's voice cracked and he covered his face with his hands. "It was my entire fucking fault for leaving."

Her face crumpled as she turned to look at him, "Killian…You said it yourself, and you didn't _want_ to leave."

"But I did!" He rolled over onto his side, his blue eyes flooded with sadness. "I did leave, I left you and you paid the price for it all." He reached out, cupping her cheek, his fingertips dancing over her skin lightly. "All because of me."

"Please _shut up_." Emma gave him a look, "I really don't want to spend this first day here, crying." She curled closer to him, draping her arm over his chest. "This feels like _home_ and I don't want home to be equated to tears… Not anymore."

Maybe that sounded pitiful, but maybe she didn't care. She wanted this home with him and she _had_ for _years_ and now she had it. She'd done her crying about what she could have had, years ago; she didn't need to cry about that while she had it now.

"I'll let you rest." Killian said softly, his brows creased together. She knew that look in his eyes – he was a worrier, in the worst of ways. He wasn't going to let it go, not like she had, convincing herself that it just wasn't meant to be, that she didn't need a baby – not then, maybe not ever. But it was fresh for him, a sad realization of what they could have had, if August hadn't interfered.

That still didn't make sense to her neither did any of the crazy shit he had told her. But it didn't scare her, not like it could have, because she had _always_ trusted him, and she didn't see why he would lie to her now.

"Wake me up in time for dinner." Emma laughed, pressing her face against his chest, "That diner next store looked delicious."

"You'll have to get carry out for me."

"But that old lady knew you."

"She also knew to keep that I'm here quiet. I hope that you'll do the same."

Emma tilted her head up to give him a look, "Still running from the law are you Lorcan?" She teased, widening her eyes for emphasis.

"Something like that." He replied tersely, closing his eyes. "I think I'm going to sleep too." Killian curled his arm around her, thankful that she was allowing him to sleep beside her.

She slept, she actually _slept_. For almost five hours and woke up – for once – feeling refreshed and incredibly hungry. Emma slipped out from beneath Killian's arm, leaning to press a kiss to the sleeping man's cheek, smiling to herself at the tickle of his five o'clock shadow against her lips.

Quietly, Emma tugged her jacket and boots back on, snatching up the room key and heading for the door. But she stopped – thinking of the way she had felt when she'd awoken all of those years ago and he never returned. She grabbed the little pad of complimentary paper, jotting down a simple note to inform Killian that she was getting them dinner and would be back soon. She left on the pillow beside him, smiling again as she watched him sleeping for a brief moment, before retreating from the room.

He'd broken down walls – just like he had when they first met. He swept in and suddenly her world changed. It was easy to fall back into line with him. It just _worked_. They fit.

The diner was fairly busy, what she could only assume was the 'after work' crowd, there for a fast dinner. She stepped up to the counter, picking up a spare menu and scouring it for something she thought Killian would want to eat. She didn't have any idea if his favorites were still the same. But she could wing it, they liked pretty much the same things.

"Well, hello again." Granny, which was still a _weird ass _name to go by, came up to the counter with a warm smile on her lips. "What can I do for you – Miss…?"

"Swan. Emma Swan." She sat the menu down, returning a small smile, "I think I'm going to order two grilled cheeses, but can one have bacon on it?"

"Sure can do."

"And two um…." She glanced at the menu again, "Hot cocoa's with cinnamon on top."

"That's my order." The woman beside Emma turned to face her, smiling amusedly at the situation. She looked to be around Emma's age, dark pixie cut hair, and a warm – almost motherly expression. "I didn't think anyone else drank it with cinnamon on top."

"I couldn't drink it without it." Emma laughed, shrugging her shoulders as she sat down on the stool.

"It'll be about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks." Emma rested her arms on the counter, glancing towards the woman who was still staring at her. "Hi."

"You seem… _so_ familiar." The woman tilted her head, her nose scrunching up a little, "Sorry for staring." She held out her hand, "I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard."

"It's nice to meet you," Emma forced another smile, shaking her hand. "Also nice to see I'm not alone in the world of cinnamon cocoa."

Mary Margaret chuckled, playing with the scarf around her neck, before untying it and laying it down on the counter beside her mug of cocoa. "Are you new in town?"

"Just rolled in today."

"Order for two?"

"Yeah…" Emma glanced down as she lied, "He's back in the room sick."

"Bless his heart," Granny interjected, sitting the to-go cups down in front of Emma, "Long drive _and_ sick. It's nice to have him-" Emma shook her head, her eyes widening. "Here in town."

"It seems like a nice place." Emma contemplated, drumming her fingers against the countertop. "It was all his idea to come here, so it's nice to feel so welcome here." She shrugged her shoulders again, popping the top on one of the cups, taking a long sip of the liquid. "This is _perfect_."

"Thank you." Granny brushed her hands off on her apron, before retreating back into the kitchen, returning just minutes later with the brown bag with the sandwiches in it.

"No, thank _you_." Emma pushed off of the stool, turning to look at the brunette briefly, "It was nice to meet you."

"You as well – was it Emma?"

"Yes."

"That's a pretty name."

"Thank you." Emma turned away from Mary Margaret, almost slamming face first into the plaid covered chest of the man side-stepping his way behind her. "I'm sorry!" Emma balanced her cups, keeping them from spilling and looking up with an apologetic smile. "I should watch where you're going."

"You're fine." Completely calm about the whole thing, he checked for stains on his shirt, offering Emma a kind smile. "No stains, we're good."

"Sorry again." Emma scrunched up her face, cringing with embarrassment. "It was nice to meet you." She stated again to the brunette, before making her way out of diner and back towards the Inn. Truthfully, she wanted to grill Killian about who _they_ were supposed to be. It was clear that he'd come to meet her, from the nervous way Mary Margaret was biting on her thumb, and the way he hardly blinked an eye at being run into – far more interested in the woman sitting at the counter.

She honestly couldn't think of anyone who fit that bill, not in any fairytales that she had read, at least. It would be entertaining to see what he'd come up with.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: It's been almost two months since I last updated this; I've been suffering pretty serious Writer's Block. I'd love some reviews on this, this is seriously my little baby and it makes me super excited to know that people are enjoying this like I am. So here, have this massive hunk of a chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

"You didn't wake me up before you left." Killian covered his mouth with the back of his hand, stifling a yawn as he stretched, his eyes on Emma as she walked across the room, placing the bag of food down on the small table. "I woke up and thought you'd skipped out on me."

Emma shot him a look, rolling her eyes, "I am not the one who skips out people." She said, though the comment wasn't meant to be cruel, the teasing comment held meaning for her. "I got you hot cocoa and grilled cheese." She held up the brown paper bag, striding back towards the bed and handing him the to-go cup. "With bacon, just like you always liked it."

"Perfect. Thank you, love." He said warmly, stretching his arms over his head, before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and rising. Killian took the cup from her hands, making a concentrated effort to have their fingers brush.

Emma shrugged off her leather coat, tossing it to the floor beside the bed, moving across the room again to sit down at the table. "The diner's pretty nice. It's a shame that you're sort of _stuck_ in here." She gave him a skeptical look. "Still sounds like some sort of excuse to keep us in the bedroom the _whole_ time that we're here."

Killian laughed, taking a long sip of his cocoa as he sank down in his seat beside her. "You have so little faith in me. "You're going to be exploring the town, without me, love."

"Everyone seems pretty nice here," She said, snatching her sandwich out of the bag before passing it to him. "It's a shame you can't go out with me so you can point out who everyone is. Like… I don't know, _Snow White_ and _Prince Charming_." She retorted sarcastically, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Your parents."

"Shut up."

Killian smirked, "The reason I loved you so, you're so damn stubborn. A true challenge."

_Love_. He'd loved her or _still_ loved her and those words still made her heart ache. She trusted him, to some extent, but she doubted that full trust would ever be restored between them. She'd built her walls up so high and even Killian might not be able to crack through them anymore.

Killian met her eyes, flashing a hesitant smile as he started eating his grilled cheese. "Pass my regards on go Granny, if you please." He said, trying to fill the silence. "She makes the best."

"It is pretty good." Emma agreed, pulling off the crust and eating it. After a few moments' silence, she spoke again, "You're not going to let up on the fairytale thing are you?"

Killian chuckled, nudging her leg beneath the table with his toes, "Aye. Sooner or later, you'll believe. I know you will."

Emma arched a brow, trying hard to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "That's probably not going to happen. So you're going to be trapped up here for, _forever_." She said, putting on an ominous voice.

He smirked at that. Killian moved his cup out of the way, his eyes never leaving her face. He leaned close, dropping his voice low, "Forever with you? That sounds like heaven Emma."

Her eyes widened, swallowing thickly, "I-.. You're crazy." She said, shaking her head, trying to dismiss the spark that ignited within her. "Stop looking at me like that." Emma said, though she didn't sound like she wanted him to stop.

"Like what, Emma?" Killian questioned, bringing his hand up to cover hers, trailing his fingers over her skin. "How am I looking at you?" His voice was low and smooth, purposely trying to torment her.

"I'm eating." Emma said, looking down at the empty spot in front of her. She'd already eaten her sandwich - that excuse wasn't going to hold up, that was for certain. "_Killian_." She whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

Killian smiled at her, that adoring sort of smile that did far more for her than any seductive gaze in his blue eyes. Few people had ever looked at her the way that he did. "I think I just keep trying to make up for lost time." He said, stroking her hand gently. "But I'm not going to apologize for that."

"I don't want you to," Emma said, her voice wavering as her eyes flickered between his impossibly blue eyes and his lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest, pulse thumping in her ears. "I really hate you sometimes."

"I can tell," Killian said with a soft laugh, "I didn't quite expect staying in the same room together to be such an issue."

He started to stand up and Emma rose too, catching his hand. "Who said it was an issue?" Killian turned around to face her and she stepped closer to him, resting her arms over his shoulders. "_I_ didn't say it was an issue."

Killian's hands rested at her hips, exhaling shakily, trying to control the urge to sweep her up into his arms and haul her over to the bed. "Do you remember all of those times in the cheap motels?"

"I remember _all_ of our times Killian," Emma said, quite honestly, her eyes holding his gaze. "I remember every little detail about _us_ and I can tell you one thing. That fucking sucked, until now." She leaned up, closing the distance and kissed him softly, "You better not leave me again."

"I have no plans to. _Ever_." He said, kissing her again, his lips slanting over hers. Killian raked his hands up along her sides, dragging her shirt up a few inches, his hands slipping beneath. He knew the consequences for her eventually breaking the curse, was that he would lose his hand, and until that day he swore he'd use it to hold her and touch her as she deserved.

"Are you going to just keep kissing me-" Emma said, fighting the urge to shudder as his fingers ghosted up along her sides, "Or are you going to do something more?"

Killian's brows shot upwards, "You're sending me mixed signals, love." He smirked, kissing her again, before he pulled back, working her shirt off of her. "You were eating, remember?"

"My sandwich is gone," She said, with a roll of her eyes, "Even if it wasn't, I'm far more interested in _you_ right now." Emma's hands went to his belt, tugging at the buckle, her fingers dripping beneath the waist of his jeans.

He bit back a groan, his eyes fluttering closed, "Are we still making up for lost time?" He took a step forwards, effectively getting her walking backwards towards the bed.

"I think we are," Emma retorted, inhaling sharply when he got her shirt over her head, tossing it aside carelessly. "You've got ten years to make up for." She caught his hand, bringing it up to her lips. She carefully pressed a line of kisses around the scar there, her eyes holding his gaze. "Will you really lose this?" She questioned, disbelief still lacing her words, but something else was there as well.

"Aye," He said, breaking eye contact. "I was just thinking of that." A sigh passed his lips and he shook his head. "But you're not going to start believing anytime soon, love, you shan't have to worry about being with a one handed man."

Emma rolled her eyes, pressing her lips against the palm of his hand, "Do you really think that my lo-… What I feel for you is like _that_? Hell, I went to prison because of you, lived a pretty crap-tastic life, yet I still held out hope that one day _maybe_, I'd find out that you didn't just leave me because you didn't care. That you left me-" Killian cut her off, catching her lips and kissing her hard. His teeth grazed over her bottom lip, taking another step that pushed her closer to the bed.

She was certain that there were better things she could be doing. Eventually, as she dreaded, August would show up. He knew that she had intentions to come here, she'd let that slip. She had a town to explore, a new life to start – _here_, like she'd always wanted. But instead, she was here, with Killian, seeking to start anew with him. Sure, they'd fucked in his office, but it hadn't been like this. That was desperation, coming together again after years, rekindling old feelings and desires, and understanding. While this, _this_ was something else entirely.

Killian lifted her up, his hands cradling her ass, pulling her legs around him, as he stepped forward, depositing her on the bed and moving to kneel above her. Just as he'd thought in his office, she deserved to be _worshipped_ – not just because she was this Savior, the promised one to save all of them, but because she was simply herself. She was _Emma_. She pulled feelings and desires out of him, since the very first day that they had met. He loved her, so completely, that he was willing to give up everything for her. Just to make sure she was safe and happy.

She hooked her legs around behind him, pulling him in close, the friction making her breath hitch in the back of her throat. Emma ran her fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands as they slid through her fingers. "_Killian_." She said in a low whisper, unable to resist rocking her hips forward against him, feeling a bulge there, pressed between her thighs.

Killian groaned when she rocked against him, pulling his lips away from hers to press a line of kisses down her throat. His hands skimmed over her sides, sliding beneath her to undo the hooks of her bra, sliding the material away and tossing it to the floor. "Beautiful." He murmured, leaning back to look down at her bare chest, his kisses dancing lower, lips grazing her breasts. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing the taut flesh, his hand paying the other the attention he craved to give her.

Emma's fingers slid through his thick dark hair, tugging at the strands. Her back arched, pressing her breasts closer to his lips and his hand, burning for him. No one had _ever_ paid her this sort of attention before. Only him. But then again it had _always_ been him. You only fall in love like this once in your life.

His hand slipped away from her breast, slipping down to her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them. He pulled back just enough to tug them down her hips, "Off." Killian said breathily, giving her space to take them off.

"Aye, aye," She teased, unable to resist playing around with the fact that he thought he was a _Captain_. Emma kicked the pants off, not even caring where they ended up. Her hands went to the front of his own jeans, palming him through the material, "Is that your _mast_ or are you just happy to see me?"

"Minx." Killian said, rolling his eyes, fighting back the urge to groan her name. His hips twitched, rocking forward into her hand.

"You love it." Emma said with a wry smirk on her lips as she worked the zipper and button open, releasing him from the constraints of his jeans. Her fingers ghosted over the bulge that was still covered by boxers, sliding over the hard length of him. "All for me, hmm?"

"_Always_." Killian said, cupping her cheek and leaning down to catch her lips, "You are something else." He whispered against her lips, rocking against her hand. "I've missed you all these years." He said softly, his words barely audible.

Killian hooked his fingers in her underwear wearing a mischievous smirk on his lips as he dragged the material down her hips.

"_Killian_." She breathed out, tilting her head and giving him a look, "I want _you_."

"Ah, ah," He said, licking his lips, trailing a single finger from her navel down to the line where her underwear had sat. "Not yet, love." He whispered, pressing his palms against the mattress on either side of her, moving lower, his lips brushing over her stomach, dipping lower.

Killian rested his hands against her thighs, pushing them open. He lowered himself between them, drawing her legs up over his shoulders. His too blue eyes stared at her face, watching her reaction as he leaned forward, his lips brushing over her slick, heated skin.

"Always the gentleman," Emma gasped, her eyes fluttering and her head falling back against the pillows. He was a man who was too good at running his mouth and _far_ too good at using his mouth. She inhaled sharply as his tongue slid over her flesh, making her back arch up off the bed.

He hummed against her skin, knowing the reverberations of the action would travel straight through her. His hands trailed along her inner thighs, smirking every time he felt her muscles trembling beneath his touch. He drew his fingers up further, brushing them over her heated flesh, pressing two fingers into her, curling them upwards to drag over that sensitive spot.

She clamped her lips together tightly, silencing a cry of his name as small tremor shook through her. _Damn_ he was good. Emma tugged at his hair, feeling that smug grin on his lips, pressing right against her clit.

It had been a long time since she'd given in like this – the office being the last time and even then, maybe she hadn't let her walls completely drop. She'd let some of her guard down, but she had still expected that he would break her heart. But this time, here – in the place she'd dreamed of since she'd first met him, she felt _safe_.

Emma inhaled sharply, fingers clutching at the sheets as her release hit, her hips rocking up off the bed. "_Killian_." She breathed out, trembling beneath his ministrations. He pulled away, looking up at her with that impish smile of his. "I need you." She whispered, wanting _him_.

Killian obliged, moving back up the bed slowly, placing kisses over her trembling skin as he moved. He caught her lips, kissing her desperately, his tongue swiping over her bottom lip. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him flush against her, making him groan into her mouth.

"_Now_." She said, a little more urgently than before, rocking her hips against him, her heated flesh sliding over his hard length. She wanted him _in_ her, not just pressed _against_ her. Emma tugged at his hair, slanting her lips over his, the kiss deepening as he shifted – holding her hip tightly as he thrust forward all the way to the hilt.

One _sharp_ thrust and he was buried completely in her, filling every inch of her with every inch of him. They fit _perfectly_. They _moved_ together perfectly. Killian caught ahold of her hands, bringing them to rest above her head, fingers laced with hers. In time, he was certain, he would have only _one_ hand to worship her with, one hand to hold her with – and that would be okay, because he'd brought her _home_. He brought here where she needed to be and he was better than August, he wasn't a coward, he wasn't _ashamed_. If bringing her here meant _his_ death he would even do it. Because above all things, a person _deserved_ their family.

The moment was intense, far more intense than she'd expected. His incredible blue eyes held her gaze and they conveyed so many unspoken things. She felt as if she could _literally_ see the depth of his love for her – her own love reflected back from her own eyes. She _loved _him and though she was far from ready to admit that, she was certain that they _both _knew it.

"_Gods Emma_," Killian breathed out, his eyes falling closed as her inner walls began tighten around him, every move pushing them both closer to the edge of their release. "_Emma_." He caught her lips, silencing the moans that start to rise from her throat.

He wanted to hear her cry out his name, to hear it as she shattered around him, but he didn't want the entire Inn knowing what was occurring in their room. She held to his hands tightly, her legs wrapping around his tighter as her release hit, followed seconds later by his own.

Her hips rocked against his, trying to ride them both through their release, before he collapsed atop her, crushing her into the mattress. And she didn't care. Her arms wrapped around him, sliding over his skin, keeping him close to him.

"Good morning to you too," Emma teased, once words came back to her. Her heart was pounding rapidly beneath her chest and she could feel his own pressed against her. They beat together, in perfect sync.

Killian hummed, brushing his lips over hers, "Aye, _good morning_." He said, cupping her cheek, leaning in to kiss her again. "You're incredible." He whispered, a sigh passing his lips as he pressed his face into the nook of her neck. "You're going to have to go and explore town you know, I can't keep you up here all day."

"Damn, I was really enjoying being trapped beneath you." Emma lamented, hooking her legs over his to keep him in place. "I have plenty of time to go find fairytale characters."

He laughed against her shoulder, "Well, you _did_ find me. So you can cross Captain Hook off your list."

Emma rolled her eyes, running her hands over his back. "_Great_ – I just fucked Hook."

"Aye, you did. Many a time in the past as well." He pulled back, looking down at her with a teasing grin. "Won't you be surprised when you realize it's all real?"

Emma gave him a skeptical look, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek, "I highly doubt that's going to happen. Sorry to break it to you." She shook her head, "I don't exactly feel like I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. I just feel like… _me_. You know? Nothing phenomenal or magical or special."

Killian shook his head, brushing his fingers through her hair, "But you are. All of those things. But mostly, you're _Emma_. To me at least and to everyone who meets you now, with the curse. But as soon as you break it – you're the Savior."

"I don't want to be the Savior." Emma said, feeling her heart clench. "I couldn't even save myself. Much less _everyone_."

Killian leaned up and kissed her, wanting to calm her fears. "Shh, just relax. You still have to _break_ the curse. You don't have to worry about those responsibilities yet."

Emma shook her head, "You know, you always pull out all the crazy shit after we have sex." She said, though teasingly, the words did hold some merit. It was like he knew she'd be all addlebrained and start to agree with him. Because – _honestly_ – what he was saying sort of made sense. In some small degree. But that was probably because the sex was making everything seem _really_ great right then.

"Well, you know," He said teasingly, stealing a kiss, "I'm just striking while the iron's hot." Killian stroked her cheek, his nose scrunching up and his eyes bright with adoration for her.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me that the nice people I met down at the diner are my parents or something." Emma said, giving him another skeptical look.

"What did they look like?"

She shook her head, "No. That's weird."

"Short hair brown hair-"

Emma's mouth went dry and she nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Was he wearing plaid?"

"Maybe." She pushed at his chest, "You're crushing me, get off." Emma said, trying to disrupt the conversation. _That_ was too much to even think about. That'd she'd already met her parents. That the couple downstairs – the nice woman and the man she'd ran into – were her parents.

Her parents _abandoned_ her – she didn't need some fantastical story about being a lost princess to fix her fucked up childhood.

"I need to… You know go out now." Emma said, casting a sideways glance at Killian as she threw her legs over the side of the bed. "Where the hell is my shirt?" She muttered to herself, eyes scanning the floor. "There it is."

Killian watched, a little helpless as she moved from the bed. "Have fun." He offered, half-heartedly, a frown creasing his brows.

"I'm just going on a walk. I'll be back."

Milah had always gone out for a smoke after sex – Emma going out for a walk afterwards didn't really feel any different. Except with Milah it had always been a little… well, lacking a better phrase – heartless.

"Right. A walk." Killian said with a smile, "I was _expecting_ it to just be a walk, love." He pushed himself out of bed, searching for his discarded pants. "I _do_ want you to explore town after all."

"You sure you didn't kidnap yourself a _princess_ and plan to hold her hostage up here?" She teased, glancing over her shoulder at him as she pulled her shirt on. "I'm kidding."

"I _am_ a pirate after all." He retorted, noting how she tensed. Clearly something he'd said previously had set her off. "Come here," Killian said, beckoning her back to him once she had her shoes on.

Emma could tell what she wanted - she bent over, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'll see you in a bit. It's _just_ a walk." She assured him, kissing him again.

* * *

The town was _quaint_. That was really the only way she could describe it. It was the sort of town where _everyone_ knew each other and they acted like they did. And everyone seemed friendly. A man who was walking his dog – a Dalmatian and if Killian had been there she would have asked if his name was _Pongo_ – was friendly with pretty much everyone he passed, including her, offering a warm and welcoming smile before he continued on.

Like a Stepford town. Everyone knew everyone, everyone was smiley and happy, and everyone seemed pretty much programed to behave in one certain fashion. There were craftsmen, a pawnshop, a library, a small school, the diner and the Inn – it all seemed _too perfect_.

"Excuse me, Miss-"

Emma turned around, rather surprised to see a woman walking rather quickly on heels, as if she'd been trying to catch up to her for some time. Her eyes narrowed, trying to guess_ who_ see was, without really the slightest idea.

"Swan." Emma said, gathering that she was inquiring about who she was.

"And do you have a first name _Miss Swan_?" The woman gave her a rather severe look, lips pursing together as if speaking to her was an aggravation.

"Emma Swan," She tucked her hands into her jean pockets, brows knitting together. She _really_ wished that Killian was there. "And _you_ are?"

"Madame Mayor – Regina Mills."

Emma's eyes widened at that, a small smile on her lips, "Nice to meet you. If you'll, um… excuse me." She nodded her head in front of her, a little taken aback when the women stepped in between her and her path.

"What's the _rush_ Miss Swan? Are you new here in town?"

"Yes." Emma forced a smile, swallowing thickly. She felt incredibly easy under the woman's scrutinizing gaze. "Just rolled in last night and I'm still _awfully_ tired, you'll have to excuse me."

"Of course." Her voice was almost venomous, could and _vile_. As if she hated Emma without even knowing her. "Welcome to Storybrooke _Miss Swan_."

"Thanks." She nodded her head, stepping past the Mayor – thankful that _this _time she was free to go. The Mayor was a bizarre encounter and she wasn't quite certain what the meaning behind all of it was. The less she spent out in town, she was thinking, was _probably _for the better.

She glanced over her shoulder, catching a glance at the Mayor as she walked away – talking on her cellphone. Emma had literally no idea _who_ she would be in Killian's "story" but something told her, she wasn't a _nice_ person.

Emma rounded the corner, heading towards the Inn when she full stopped. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing?"

"Giving you a parking citation."

She wasn't _even_ going to ask why the apparent sheriff of the town was _Irish_.

"A parking citation for wha-" The Sheriff pointed towards the poll located directly in front of her car **No Parking**.

"That didn't fucking say that when I parked here." Emma protested, her eyes widening as he slapped the ticket on her windshield. "Oh come on! I'm not even from here! I'll move it, right now." She pulled her keys out of her pocket, dangling them in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Miss, the law is the law."

"I will swear on a Goddamn Bible, there was no sign there when I parked." She pulled the ticket off of her windshield, holding it out in front of her. "Come on… _Please_."

"No can do," He shook his head, reaching for the cuffs at his side. "Do you know you rights?"

"_What_?" Emma took a step backwards, "Hey, I'm sorry for resisting this whole ticket thing. I, um… I'll pay it off." Her heart was pounding in her chest as she stared at him, her eyes flickering to the cuffs. They sent her right back to the day she was hauled off to jail. "Come _on_."

He stepped around behind her, pulling her arms behind her back, cuffs slipping around her wrists. "You'll be responsible for the tow and impound costs."

"All of this for _parking_ in the wrong place?" Emma twisted her wrists, but it was fruitless. "Seriously, this is… _pathetic_."

"Insulting a police officer?"

"Fuck you; I used to _work_ as a liaison for the police." She snapped, not even caring right now. She didn't know how she was going to get out of this mess – not with Killian being unable to leave the damn room.

It was unnerving, how_ vacant_ the Sheriff's eyes were. Exactly as she'd thought – _Stepford_ people.

"It's just until we sort out your car Miss Swan."

"How do you know my name?" Emma said, jerking around to look at the man, before he pulled the backseat of the vehicle open.

"I ran the-"

"They aren't in _my_ name."

He paused then, as if he didn't know the answer, brow furrowing as he looked down at the blond sitting in the back of the cruiser. He hesitated, as if he was going to let her out, but instead simply slammed the door shut.

* * *

Emma curled her hands around the bars of the cell, looking out into the Sheriff's station, watching as the man moved around, working on paperwork, and who the hell knew what else. "You actually going to let me out or….?"

"Someone's bailing you out." He said stiffly, glancing up at her. "It would seem that fortune was in your favor today."

"Yeah, I'm _so_ fortunate," Emma rolled her eyes, "I come to a new town and get my car sent to impound _and_ arrested." She released the bars, moving back to sit down on the incredibly uncomfortable cot. "So _Sheriff_ what's your name?"

"Graham Humbert," He said simply, his head jerking around when the door to the station opened. "That would be for you."

She had absolutely _no_ idea who would come and bail her out. She hadn't exactly been walking around making friends and Killian, well he couldn't leave the room and she doubted that _this_ would warrant him getting caught by whoever it was he was avoiding.

"Mary Margaret!" Emma said, her eyes widening at the sight of the brunette from the diner walking into the station. "Did _you _bail me out?"

"I did. I thought you might need a friendly hand right now." The young woman smiled, nodding her head as she looked to Graham, "Are the charges going to be dropped?"

"They are," Graham crossed his arms across the chest, "Her car's still in the impound, but the charges aren't going to stay against her. Are you taking her off my hands?"

"I am," Mary Margaret said with small shrug of her shoulders, "It's a good thing today's a day off from school, otherwise I don't know who would be bailing you out, Emma."

"I can't thank you enough Mary Margaret." Emma said, eyeing the Sheriff with narrowing eyes as he opened the cell, "Thanks _Sheriff_."

"Have a good day Miss Swan," Graham said, his voice as hollow as that look he'd had in his eyes while he was arresting her. He was unnerving, Emma couldn't quite put her finger on it – but something was _terribly_ wrong with him.

"Could your friend not come to bail you out?" Mary Margaret questioned once they were outside of the station. She crossed her arms across her chest, smiling warmly at the blond.

"What?" Emma gave her a confused look.

"You bought _two_ orders at the diner; you said he was sick or something." She reminded her, laughing, "Did the getting arrested thing shake you up?"

Emma laughed then when she realized that she'd sort of given away the fact that she wasn't alone in the town. "Still sick. I didn't even get a chance to call him… He doesn't have his cellphone."

"Are you two…" The brunette looked a little flustered and she covered her mouth, "Sorry, that's prying and rude."

"Kind of,' Emma answered anyways, shrugging her shoulders. "I was with him a _long_ time ago and now we're…rekindling."

"Well, I hope he starts feeling better soon. It would be nice to meet him." She said with the same warm – almost familiar smile. "If you two are sticking around here in this town, maybe the four of us could go out or something."

"Oh," Emma said, realizing that she _had_ been right about the man at the diner, "Are you and him…?"

She blushed, "Sort of. It's complicated." But Emma knew the look that was on the woman's face – she was head over heels in love with the man. "David's a very good man."

"Got to love complicated relationships," Emma said, tucking her hands into her jean pockets as they walked. "Are we headed in the direction of the impound?"

"Of course, I'm not letting you have to deal with this alone." Mary Margaret replied with a smile – she had a bubbly sort of personality that surprisingly made Emma feel comfortable around her. However, the words that Killian had said, still weighed heavily in her thoughts. This woman, by Killian's logic, was her mother.

Emma's brows knit together, "I think the Mayor did this."

"What?" Mary Margaret looked incredibly surprised by that admission. She was _far_ from a fan of the Mayor, herself, but she hadn't really found too many others in town that agreed with her. Even David held an impartial opinion on the woman.

"I don't know…" Emma trailed off, shaking her head, "She pretty much ran me down on the road to ask me _who_ I am. Then, not ten minutes later I'm getting arrested and the Sheriff knows my name. My plates on my car aren't in my name – long story – and he _knew_ my name. That just makes me feel really…"

"Creeped out?"

"Yes!" Emma agreed with a slight laugh, she glanced at Mary Margaret with a smile. "I really can't thank you enough for this. I didn't expect _anyone_ to bail me out." She was a little unsettled by the fact that talking to the woman was so easy. People were never _easy_ for Emma – yet there they were, talking easily to one another.

"Do you need anyone to bring soup by for you and your guy?" Mary Margaret offered.

She shook her head, "It's not really like... _sick_, it's more like, he got into a really bad fist fight yesterday so he looks like hell."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, he's a mess. But he's pretty much _fine_."

"That's strange." Mary Margaret stopped, looking upwards.

"What?" Emma questioned, shielding her eyes as she looked up at the clock tower, squinting to try to see whatever it was that Mary Margaret was looking at.

"I always remember that clock being stuck at eight fifteen, but it seems like it's working now." She shrugged her shoulders, "I guess someone got it fixed."

"Yeah…" Her brows creased together as she watched the hand on the clock shift as another minute passed. "I guess it got fixed." Emma repeated, her pulse pounding in her ears. She didn't understand this town or the people in it – even Killian was a confusing fixture of the Storybrooke. Everything that Killian had told her was coloring how she saw the place. By his logic the woman walking in stride beside her – the one who admittedly had the same chin as her, was supposed to be her mother.

But that didn't make sense. Mary Margaret was the same age as her and she sure as hell didn't look like Snow White to Emma. Sure, dark hair, pale skin, and she did have red lipstick on, but that was where the similarities ended. And David – the man that she'd been seeing at the diner – didn't really strike her as Prince Charming, or _her_ father. He seemed like a regular guy, nothing exceptional or something out of a fairy tale book.

How the hell was Emma supposed to believe that these two people were her parents, that Killian was Captain Hook, and what – was the Mayor supposed to be the Evil Queen or something? She was starting to reevaluate her definition of crazy. Typically, if a guy threw out some crazy shit, she'd shut down, push him away, and move on – but not with Killian. As soon as she got her car back she was going to head back to the Inn and spend the rest of the afternoon with him. He felt safe, he felt like part of her. Maybe it was just because she'd known him in the past and despite the shortcomings that had occurred, he was still _safe_ and his arms still felt like home.

She found it hard to believe that she was a Savior and that he was a pirate. He was just Killian Jones and she was just Emma Swan.

Maybe this town was just weird, maybe the people just didn't get out much. Maybe the Mayor enjoyed power tripping new people – maybe just to get them _not_ to stay. Maybe this woman beside her was some distant relative, like a cousin or something – and maybe that was why she felt some sort of familiar connection to her. Maybe…

Maybe he was _right_.


End file.
